


A Bittersweet Dream

by sinead_smith (smac89)



Series: The Endless [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Sandman (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 98,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smac89/pseuds/sinead_smith
Summary: They say Destiny plays chess with the universe. This is false. Destiny does not play games.But that doesn't mean no one else does.Cosmic forces are aligning and the board is set. It's time for the opening moves.And Darcy refuses to be a pawn.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Darcy Lewis & Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis/Loki, Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: The Endless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753660
Comments: 747
Kudos: 235





	1. Family Dinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to the Bittersweet Dream emotional rollercoaster. Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times, and ensure your emotions are properly buckled in.
> 
> Video and photography are strictly forbidden, but you can purchase a copy of A Profound Silence at the following site:
> 
> http://thebp.site/239644
> 
> All proceeds go towards the publishing of my other series, The Yggdrasil Chronicles.
> 
> Thank you, and have a nice day!

It wasn’t until she got to the front door of the apartment that Darcy realized that there was no way she could get to the key in her pocket without putting down the paper bags in her arms. Darcy groaned and began to crouch, when the door swung inwards. She straightened.

“Oh. Hey, Daniel. When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes ago,” her brother replied, taking the bags from her arms. “I started on the vegetables.”

“Awesome, thanks!”

Darcy and Daniel could not be more different, which was understandable, as Daniel was adopted. Darcy had inherited her mother’s dark blue eyes and brown hair, while Daniel was platinum blonde and ridiculously tall. They had also only known of each other’s existence for about three months, but had still bonded quickly.

“Any idea when Dream will get here?” Darcy asked as she unpacked the bags onto the kitchen counter.

“He won’t be late,” Daniel said defensively.

“I didn’t say that,” Darcy replied. “He’s  _ never _ late. I just wanted to know when.”

“He’s overseeing a prophetic dream of a princess somewhere on the other side of the universe,” Daniel explained. “Destiny asked him to see to it personally.”

“Ah,” Darcy said, and didn’t push the matter.

The apartment was above a surf shop in Brentwood. The only reason Darcy was able to afford the place was because she worked for the owner of the surf shop, who owned the whole building, and because she had a year’s worth of tax-free pay from the Air Force, which she had earned during a time in which her food, board, and transportation had all been paid for.

Daniel and Darcy continued to work on the meal, making pleasant small talk. Darcy told him about the interesting customers she’d had in the last week and the massive wipe-out she’d survived the last time she’d gone surfing. Daniel told her about the new skellig he’d discovered, created by a six-year-old girl on a planet called Xandar. 

These meals had become a weekly occurrence in the last three months. Darcy’s father and adopted brother joined her for dinner every Sunday afternoon, an attempt at some kind of familial normalcy with questionable success.

“Will  _ he _ be joining us again?” Daniel asked as he sliced the braised skirt steak.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “He’s not Voldemort, Daniel. You can say his name. And, as a matter of fact, yes. He will.”

“Dad’s not going to be happy with that,” Daniel pointed out.

Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, true. But he’s just gonna have to deal. Loki and I have our issues right now, but he’s part of my life, and I’m hoping that’s not going to change any time soon.”

Daniel accepted the serving platter Darcy handed him and began transferring the meat onto it. “Have you forgiven him yet?”

“For knocking me out, kidnapping me, and taking me to a different planet?” Darcy said dryly, adding a bit more salt to the sauteed vegetables. “I don’t know. Not yet. But it did get me away from the Greenmother for the time being.”

It was Daniel’s turn to roll his eyes. “And Dad certainly got an earful for that,  _ trust  _ me.”

“I imagine he did,” Darcy muttered. As she spoke, she felt the odd,  _ stretching _ sensation of someone pushing through from the Dreaming to the Waking World. A moment later, Dream  _ coalesced. _

Darcy and Daniel’s father was… not an ordinary person. Technically, he wasn’t a person at all. He was very tall, with salt-white skin and unruly, ink-black hair. Golden stars shone from the black depths of his eye sockets.

“ **Good evening, Son. Daughter,** ” Dream greeted. “ **I trust you are both well** ?”

“Hi, Dad!” Daniel greeted cheerily, waving the hand in which he still held the knife.

“Hi, Dream,” Darcy said, much more restrained. Like with Daniel, Dream had only been in her life for a little over three months, and after a lifetime of not knowing if she even  _ had _ a father, she was taking their relationship slow.

“ **May I assist you in any way** ?” Dream asked politely. It was still taking some getting used to, but Darcy was learning that Dream’s emotional distance didn’t mean he didn’t love his children. Darcy had seen for herself, quite recently, just how paternal Dream could be.

“Taste this,” Darcy instructed, holding up a cube of roasted potato. “Tell me if I seasoned it enough.”

Dream dutifully took the offered fork and put the potato in his mouth, chewing with an intent expression. “ **I believe it needs a small amount of pepper** ,” he told her gravely.

Darcy beamed back at him. “Cool! Thanks.” She liked that about Dream. Since she had started learning how to cook, Daniel had showered her with praise over everything she made, warranted or not. But she could always rely on Dream to be completely honest with her.

“Oh, and Loki is coming over for dinner, too,” Darcy added casually as she reached for the pepper grinder. 

There was an immediate thickening of the air, and the shadows that made up Dream’s shimmering cloak spread up the walls, nearly swallowing the ceiling. Darcy saw Daniel wince out of the corner of her eye.

“ **Is his presence… necessary?** ” Dream asked in a frigid voice.

“Yes,” Darcy said firmly. “He’s my  _ boyfriend _ … kind of. Anyway, I want  _ all _ of you to be around, which means you need to learn to at least put up with him.”

“ **He is not trustworthy.** ”

“You’ve told me the story,” Darcy replied, waving a serving spoon in the air. “But he didn’t actually  _ cheat _ , did he?”

“ **No,** ” Dream answered reluctantly.

“Well, he’s never lied to me,” Darcy went on. She turned to the stove and removed the vegetables from the cooktop, turning off the gas. “I’m still hoping we can work things out.”

“ **Do you love him?** ”

Darcy froze in place, only putting the pan down onto a trivet when it became too hot to hold. “I… I don’t know,” she said softly. She couldn’t lie to Dream. Literally, she  _ couldn’t _ . That was one of his weird, freak powers (among many others). He could always tell if you were lying.

The doorbell rang at that exact moment, and Darcy had never been happier for an interruption. “I’ll get it!” she announced unnecessarily, and darted out of the kitchen towards the front door of the apartment, which faced the alley behind the building, a set of narrow steps leading up to it. Darcy yanked the door open.

Loki smiled cautiously when she met his gaze. It had been two weeks since he’d last come to dinner, and three weeks since his disastrous first meeting with Dream. Or rather, their first meeting at Darcy’s apartment. Darcy was just grateful the building was still standing.

She didn’t know why she’d expected him to look different, but he was pretty much exactly the same. He wore a quarter button t-shirt in emerald green, long sleeves pushed up to reveal the shimmering, green-gold tattoos on his left arm. He’d pulled his jet-black hair back into his customary half-tail, with slender braids decorated with ivory and gold beads. He held a clear bottle full of a deep, purple liquid.

“Hi!” Darcy said breathlessly, trying to ignore the fact that her heart  _ still _ skipped a beat whenever she saw him.

His smile strengthened. “Hello, Darcy,” he replied.

Darcy’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god,” she squealed excitedly. “It worked!”

“It did,” Loki agreed. “Quite well, actually.”

“And… and that’s how you sounded…  _ before _ ?”

Loki nodded. “More or less.” He hesitated visibly. “Do you like it?”

“Um,  _ yeah _ ,” Darcy told him enthusiastically. “You sound British, almost.  _ Trés _ sexy.”

Loki colored slightly, the barest hint of pink along his high, sharp cheekbones. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and offered her the bottle.

“What’s this?” she asked, amused by his reaction.

“ _ Dögvín, _ ” Loki replied quickly. “It translates roughly to ‘dew wine.’ It is very rare, and very potent. I thought your… father… would enjoy it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Darcy said mildly. “Come in.”

Darcy had learned a great deal over the last three months. When she wasn’t working in the surf shop (appropriately called Beach Break), she spent her time studying, devouring whatever books Lucien brought her from Dream’s massive library. She knew about the Laws of Obligation, which bound the citizens of the Nine Realms. She knew that Loki needed an invitation to enter a home or most of his magick would be shackled. She also knew that as long as Loki was a welcome guest under her hospitality, Dream could not harm him.

Darcy led Loki back into the kitchen, which doubled as a dining room, due to the apartment's compact size. Dream was still brooding, the shadows from his cloak turning the well-lit room into dusky twilight. Daniel, on the other hand, circled the table to offer Loki his hand. 

“Well met, Grindalokki,” Daniel greeted. “I hope your journey was safe?”

“It was uneventful, thank you, Daniel,” Loki replied, shaking the other man’s hand.

Daniel’s silver-white eyebrows arched up in surprise. “You recovered your speech,” he observed. “I’m impressed. I heard that spell was very difficult.”

“It was,” Loki admitted. “It took several days, and a great deal of power.” 

“Well, sit, and recover,” Daniel said, gesturing towards the table. “Is that  _ Dögvín _ ?”

Darcy handed her brother the bottle. “Yup.”

Daniel took it reverently. “I’ve never had this in the Waking World. I tasted it once in an Einjherjar’s dream, a few years ago.”

“It has not been brewed for a generation,” Loki told him. “That bottle cost a fortune to obtain.”

“I can imagine,” Daniel agreed. “Hey, Darce, do you have wine glasses?”

“Do I look like a girl who has wine glasses?” Darcy asked sarcastically, gesturing towards her outfit. It was the middle of summer in southern California, and the apartment was cooled only by two window units. So to try to combat the pervasive heat, Darcy wore a very thin, very loose tank top in bright pink over a black sports bra and a pair of white shorts dotted with red rosebuds. Her hair, once long and almost to her waist, was cut short, just to shoulder length, with the left side shaved down.

“If you’ll allow me,” Loki said, and produced four crystal and gold goblets from thin air. Daniel shook his head at his sister and accepted the goblets.

Dinner was… tense, to say the least. Darcy hadn’t expected anything less. But at least Dream didn’t try to smite Loki where he stood, and Loki didn’t summon a tornado. She’d thought that Thor was the god of storms, but apparently he was the god of  _ lightning _ . Loki was just as capable of summoning destructive weather.

The  _ Dögvín  _ tasted sweet and went down warm. Darcy had downed half her cup before Loki realized and took it away from her. She’d protested, but had to eat her words a minute later when she suddenly found herself floating. Not literally, of course, but the wine was  _ strong _ .

Dream and Daniel left shortly after the meal was over, Daniel leaving the dishes and kitchen spotless, as he always did. He’d be back on Wednesday to have lunch with Darcy at the vegan café down the street. She wouldn’t see Dream until next week, unless she called for him.

Darcy found herself on her second-hand, but very comfy, sofa with no memory of how she got there and a blanket spread over her lap. Loki appeared from the kitchen a moment later and handed her a steaming mug. She recognized the smell immediately.

“Ooh, coffee,” she said as she took his offering. “ _ Moli _ coffee, my favorite!”

He sat next to her, close but not touching, a mug of his own cradled in his hands. “You don’t mind if I stay for a while, do you?” he asked, not meeting her gaze.

“Sure,” Darcy replied, hiding her expression behind her mug. The rush of caffeine and the heavenly taste of  _ moli  _ helped to clear her head quickly. “So. How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Loki replied, staring into the depths of his mug as if trying to scry the future on the reflective surface of the dark liquid. Not that he could, Darcy had learned from her studies. Scrying required a solid surface; volcanic glass was preferred, though silver or copper could work in a pinch.

“Oh yeah? Doing what?”

Loki raised the mug to his lips and drank. He closed his eyes, obscenely long, dark eyelashes fluttering as he savored the drink. Darcy told herself the sudden warmth she felt in her stomach was just from the wine. 

Yeah, totally the wine.

He swallowed and opened his eyes again, finally turning to meet her gaze. His eyes were pale green, like a cat’s; a color completely unheard of in Humans. His pupils could dilate and constrict far beyond a Human’s capabilities, and in the dark his eyes reflected light back like a predator.

“I’ve returned to SHIELD,” he told her quietly. “They asked for my assistance before… we left, and I felt obliged to provide it.”

Darcy turned toward him, drawing one leg up so she could prop her elbow on her knee. “What’d Coulson say after you bounced without telling anyone for the second time?”

He winced slightly at the veiled rebuke. “He was not… pleased. But his first concern was for your safety.”

“You didn’t tell them where I am, did you?” Darcy demanded.

“No, of course not,” he said firmly. He raised his mug again. “The concealment your father placed on your home still stands. SHIELD will never find you unless you allow it.”

“Good,” Darcy said. “I don’t think I’m ready to join the circus again.” She straightened suddenly. “Oh! There was something I wanted to show you!” She set her mug down on the coffee table and scrambled to her feet, getting tangled in the blanket and nearly face planting onto the floor. Loki caught her arm, holding her steady until she could get her feet back underneath her.

“Thanks,” she said softly. For the span of a heartbeat, they remained where they were, Loki’s hand wrapped around her wrist, his touch cool and dry, calloused but gentle. Then Loki blinked and released her, shattering the moment. Darcy retreated to her bedroom to hide the flaming heat burning in her cheeks.

When she emerged half a minute later, Loki had moved to the opposite side of the couch, pressed against the arm, his mug clutched in both hands to his chest. Darcy felt a pang of disappointment, but didn’t press the issue. She sat down a respectful distance from him and opened the book to the page she had marked.

“Look at this,” she said, turning the book towards him.

The page held an illumination depicting a woman in a white dress, a belt of gold discs around her waist. Her long, wavy brown hair was crowned with apple blossoms, and she held a bloody dagger in one hand and an obsidian mirror in her other. The caption read: “The Knowledge of Things Unseen”.

“This is her, isn’t it?” Darcy asked. “The woman you told me about. Who you saw in your dreams.”

She studied his face as he frowned at the illumination. It was, as usual, difficult to read. His hands were far more expressive than his face, but he still clutched at his mug as if it were a talisman, his fingers tense and still.

“It is,” he confirmed tersely after a moment of silence.

“Well, listen to this,” Darcy instructed, and spun the book around. “‘The Knowledge of Things Unseen is a dream aspect that appears when an important decision is to be made, and offers counsel, but only that which the dreamer already knows, and does not wish to understand.’” She looked up to assess Loki’s reaction and, finding none, turned back to the book. “It goes on. Here. ‘The Knowledge of Things Unseen is believed to be a facet of Gersemi, the Goddess of Secrets, whose birth has been foretold in the prophecies of the Greenmother.’

“So, leaving aside the whole prophecy thing,” Darcy continued. “It explains why you started seeing her only  _ after _ you met me. I guess my subconscious divinity or something was trying to talk to you. I’m not sure. I’m still new to all of this.”

Loki set his mug on the table beside Darcy’s. “May I?” he asked, and reached toward the book. Darcy let him take it. Keeping place with one finger, he closed it to examine the cover. As with all of Dream’s books, it was clothbound and plain, the title embossed in gold letters.  Dream Aspects and Denizens: a Complete List . Unusual for one of Dream’s books, however, it listed an author: Lucien the Librarian.

“You are studying your father’s trade, I see,” Loki said neutrally. “Have you decided, then?”

“No, I haven’t,” Darcy retorted peevishly. “I have books about Green magick, too. I just want to know what all my options are.”

Loki flipped the book open again and studied the illumination. The colors were so vibrant, the image so sharp, that if you stared at it long enough it almost seemed to move. “When you are born of two natures, you are always forced to choose,” he said softly, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “And the unchosen will forever see you as a traitor.”

Darcy reached out slowly and put her hand on his forearm. His tone and words disturbed her. She knew that Loki was not having an easy time lately, but she hadn’t been worried about him until just this moment.

“Hey. Are you okay?” she asked.

Loki blinked and looked up, his eyes wide. “I… I am sorry. I find myself speaking my thoughts out loud lately.” He offered her a weak smile. “I fear I am still not accustomed to having the power of speech again.”

“Seriously, Loki,” Darcy said insistently. “Are you  _ okay _ ?”

His dark brows gathered together as he continued to stare at her. Despite the bright sunshine pouring through the windows, his pupils slowly dilated until only the thinnest ring of golden-green remained. He reached up to brush his fingertips along her cheek before cupping her jaw. 

Darcy felt like her lungs suddenly stopped working properly, and had to remind herself to take a deep breath, The responding rush of oxygen made her light-headed and she swayed forward, into Loki’s touch. She caught herself with one hand on his thigh. She blinked, and their eyes met again.

She could taste  _ moli _ on his lips when he kissed her, an achingly chaste brush of his mouth against hers. The warmth in her belly burst into a hungry flame. She buried her fingers into his hair and pulled him towards her, sucking on his lower lip before biting down, a bit harder than she anticipated.

Loki stiffened, and for a second she was afraid he would pull away, rebuke her, or worse:  _ reject _ her. It had been three months since he’d taken her from the Triskelion against her will, three months since he’d poured out the truth and laid himself at her feet for judgement.

It had been difficult, at first. But the longer Darcy spent alone in her apartment, the more she realized she missed him. She wasn’t sure if she had forgiven him yet, and if she hadn’t then kissing him was probably a bad idea, but part of her felt empty and she was tired of being alone.

But then Loki slipped his tongue into her mouth and she swear she saw sparks. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling taut on the black, silken strands. He growled, deep in his chest, and Darcy  _ needed _ . She climbed into his lap, chasing the taste of  _ moli, _ coffee, and  _ Dögvín _ that lingered on his tongue.

And Darcy had thought he was a good kisser  _ before _ he got his tongue back.

Loki set his hands on her hips and pushed her back, breaking away from her. “No,” he said hoarsely, his chest heaving. “I--I do not think this is wise.”

Darcy blinked at him. “What… what are you… do you not want…”

Loki closed his eyes and dropped his head with a groan. “I  _ do _ want,” he replied, his voice still raw. “More than anything else. But… not now. Not yet. There is still too much between us.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I have not yet earned your forgiveness.”

Darcy hated it, but he was right. She dropped her hands from his hair and leaned back. “Yeah,” she said sadly. “You should go. Before we… do anything we might regret later.” She got to her feet and stepped back to allow him to rise. She walked him to the door.

“May I see you again?” Loki asked, his expression vulnerable, for once.

“Yes,” Darcy replied. “I’d like that.”

He bent to place a kiss on her temple, and then he was gone. Darcy closed the door, locked it, and then leaned her forehead against the cool metal.

“Fuck,” she said feelingly.


	2. Timeout for Tacos

Beach Break had long ago become a fixture in Brentwood culture. Darcy had bought her first board from there. The owner’s husband, Brent, had taught Darcy for almost five years. So when she turned up on the doorstep asking for a job, she’d been hired without question. She’d even been offered the apartment over the shop at half price.

The owner was a giant of a man, still muscled for being well into his forties. He was a Hawaiian native and wore his hair in dreadlocks almost to his waist. He was soft spoken despite his size, and despised conflict and violence of all kinds. It was widely known that Owen Kameāloha’s shop was not the place to conduct any funny business, and any violators of that unspoken pact were dealt with swiftly and without mercy.

Darcy started most of her shift by handling repair orders. Back when Cece struggled to put food on her children’s plates, there wasn’t enough money to have Darcy’s old, battered board fixed by professionals, so she got quite good at maintaining it herself. So she sanded, planed, and waxed boards for most of the morning.

It was Tuesday. Darcy hadn’t heard from anyone since Sunday. Not that she expected to; when Loki brought her back to Earth (at her vehemenant request) she had ditched her cell phone and had not replaced it. Cece was an hour’s drive from the Brentwood district of LA, and in a pinch, Darcy borrowed Owen’s work computer to send Cece a heavily-coded message from a spoof email. Owen even paid her under the table in cash, and there was no written lease for the apartment.

Darcy was, essentially, off the grid.

The door to the repair shop swung open and Owen poked his head in. “There’s a guy out here asking for you, Didi,” he said, using the nickname he’d given her years ago as an alias. “You want me to get rid of him?”

Darcy looked up with a frown. “Does he have white hair or black hair?”

Owen frowned but still answered the question. “Black.”

“What color is his shirt?”

Owen’s confusion was evident, but he didn’t comment. “Green.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, surprised. “Huh. Okay.” She set down the can of wax and covered it carefully before following Owen back to the sales front, wiping her hand on a threadbare rag.

Loki stood just inside the door and to the left, so as not to impede any customer who came in. Today he wore a short-sleeved t-shirt that left most of his tattoos on his left arm visible. He’d pulled his hair up in a looped-over tail, but somehow managed to rock the man bun. 

“Hey,” Darcy greeted. “What’s up?”

He smiled at her, friendly and confident. “I came by to ask when your lunch break might be.”

Darcy glanced over at Owen. “Clean up your workbench and you can go now,” Owen told her.

“Give me a minute,” Darcy told Loki and hurried back to the workshop. Owen followed her back.

“Hey, Didi… this guy. He okay?” Owen asked, sounding worried.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Darcy insisted.

“Who is he?”

“He’s, well… kinda my future boyfriend.”

Owen raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, making his prodigious biceps bulge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was almost my boyfriend, but then he fucked up. Spectacularly,” Darcy explained. “Then I decided to give him a second chance.”

“He’s not why you’re off grid, is he?”

“No,” Darcy said firmly. “He’s  _ safe. _ ”

“Alright. But if he makes you cry, I’ll kick his ass.”

Darcy grinned and bounced on her tippy toes to plant a kiss on Owen’s cheek. “I’ll hold him down while you do,” she promised.

Loki had moved to the sidewalk outside the shop, his gaze on the farmer’s market across the street. Darcy grabbed her cover-up on her way out the door so she wasn’t wandering around in just a pair of board shorts and a tankini top. (The workshop could get really hot with the wax heaters.) She pulled the sheer minidress over her head and ran her fingers through her hair to try to tame the humidity-inspired waves.

“I didn’t really expect to see you again so soon,” Darcy admitted as she set off for the farmer’s market. Loki kept pace with her easily, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I had a free afternoon and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it,” Loki replied.

Darcy tilted her head, a thought occurring to her. “Are you back at the Triskelion?” Loki answered with a nod. “Dude, it’s a six hour flight from LaGuardia. How the hell did you get here in an  _ afternoon _ ?”

Loki looked slightly abashed. “I have… ways,” he replied cryptically.

Darcy spun to walk backwards in front of him. “Nuh-uh. You’re not gonna do that whole sexy man of mystery shit like you used to. Spill. Can you teleport?”

He laughed, and Darcy abruptly remembered how much she missed that sound. “No. I cannot teleport. I don’t know of anyone who can, not truly. Even your father must walk through dreams to travel across worlds.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Darcy accused. She got tired of walking backwards and returned to his side. She grabbed his forearm with both hands and tugged. “Tell meeeee.”

Loki freed his arm from her grasp, but took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Long ago, when the universe was still young, the Norns created pathways from one planet to the next, along the branches of the world tree.”

“Yggdrasil!” Darcy exclaimed. “Wait, seriously? There’s just, like, I don’t know,  _ portals _ from one planet to another?”

“Not precisely,” Loki replied. “Have you not read about these in your books?”

“No, but that’s not really the kind of stuff I’m researching.”

“The Ways are more like a… stable wormhole,” Loki explained. “A place where space and time has been folded together. Many spacefaring societies use them to travel; they call them ‘hyperspace points.’ But very few know about the ones directly from planet to planet.”

“So there’s a Way from New York to LA?” Darcy asked.

“There is a Way from Manhattan to Alfheim, another from Alfheim to Nornheim, and finally one to Santa Monica.”

Darcy rubbed the side of her nose. “How long does it take to get here through all that?”

“Less than two hours,” Loki replied casually. He looked around the bustling market, taking in the scents of dozens of food stalls. “What strikes your fancy?”

“Street tacos,” Darcy replied instantly. “And I know just the place.” She made a beeline through the market to a familiar food cart with a giant sign of a cartoon cactus wearing a sombrero. An obvious racial stereotype, but the owner of the cart used it to her advantage.

“Hi, Lúz!” Darcy greeted cheerfully.

“Didi! Buenos dias! Are you hungry?” Lúz replied, waving a serving spoon. “And who is this tall slice of  _ yes, please _ ?”

Darcy giggled and blushed involuntarily. “Uh, this is Luke, my boyfriend. He’s visiting for the day. He works back in NYC. He also eats like a horse, so I hope you cooked extra.”

“It’s no worries, mija. The old man can always bring more from home. What’s your pleasure?”

Darcy ordered for herself and turned to Loki. “What looks good to you?”

He frowned as he studied the short but descriptive menu. “I… I don’t recognize many of these words,” he admitted finally. Darcy grimaced and slapped herself on the forehead. 

“Right, sorry. We never taught you to read anything other than English.” Due to spending the majority of her life in the LA area, Darcy was fluent in Spanglish and Esperanto. She translated the mostly Spanish menu. Loki considered for a moment and then offered Lúz a charming smile.

“I would dearly love to try everything you are offering,” he said.

“Ooh, he Bri’ish,” Lúz replied, briefly adopting a very bad Cockney accent. She winked at Darcy. “You need to keep this one.”

“ _ This _ one?” Loki asked archly, looking down at Darcy with a raised eyebrow.

Lúz laughed, throwing her head back. “Oh, mija. I see you have a thing or two to tell Mr. English here.”

“Shut up and give me my tacos,” Darcy muttered.

Later, when they found a patch of grass to sit and enjoy the huge paper box of tacos, Loki paused before choosing his first one. “I don’t care who you have been with before,” he said hesitantly. “You know that, right?”

Darcy had to swallow her mouthful before replying. She’d shoved half the taco in her mouth at once. “I do now,” she said. “Do you want to know my number? I’m not ashamed of it or anything. It’s the 21st century. I own my sexuality.”

Loki frowned. “Your… number?”

“How many sexual partners you’ve had,” she explained.

Loki snorted. “That would only matter if I expected to inherit the throne of Asgard,” he said bitterly.

“Right. I forgot you’re a prince.”

“Was,” Loki corrected. He stared at the taco in his hand for a few seconds. “I imagine I have been disinherited by now.” He took a cautious bite and chewed slowly, his expression thoughtful. Darcy elbowed him in the ribs.

“What d’ya think?” she demanded.

“It’s… interesting,” he said slowly, and took another bite.

“What do you mean, ‘disinherited’?” Darcy asked before finishing off her own taco.

Loki took a long time to reply, seemingly absorbed by the new culinary experience. Darcy didn’t push him. She imagined it was a difficult topic to discuss, but he  _ had _ promised to answer truthfully any and all questions she asked. 

“Before I came to Midgarðr,” he began suddenly. “Odin, the king of Asgard, intended to crown my older brother, Thor, as king in his place. I did not think this wise, so I arranged to have the Allfather’s weapons vault invaded by Asgard’s sworn enemy. The coronation was called off and Thor took it upon himself to investigate, against the Allfather’s orders. Which is how I was captured, tortured, and silenced.”

Darcy finished chewing. “Did anything from the vault get taken?”

“Of course not,” Loki said fiercely. “I would not have allowed it.”

“Well, I’ll admit that was a shitty thing to do, but do you really think your dad is gonna disown you because of a poorly-thought-out prank?”

“No,” Loki replied. “I think he will disown me for committing treason.” He picked out a new taco and unwrapped it while Darcy stared at him.

“Treason?” she echoed in disbelief.

“Yes, my dear.  _ Treason _ . I knowingly aided and abetted the invasion of the weapons vault by two Jötnar, natives of a planet Asgard warred with for nearly a thousand years. Had any other Asgardian done such a thing, the punishment would be immediate death. The most I will receive is banishment, I suppose.”

“Is that why you haven’t gone back?” Darcy asked softly.

Loki froze, avoiding Darcy’s piercing gaze. “Yes,” he said simply, and resumed eating. They sat in silence for a while, working their way through the box. The air between them was not awkward, per se, but Darcy still felt the tension.

“How many siblings do you have?” she blurted. “I mean, you’ve mentioned Thor, but is he your only brother?”

“He is not,” Loki said, tilting his head back to examine the blue, cloudless sky. “I have a younger brother as well: Baldr. I was nearly a man grown when he was born. We are not close.”

Darcy picked a shred of lettuce off her thigh. “Do you think they miss you?”

Loki lowered his head. “I am weary of speaking about myself,” he said. “Let us speak of you, now.”

“Why?” Darcy asked defensively. “We talk about me all the time.”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. “I would like to know your ‘number,’” he said.

“You ass,” Darcy accused without any heat. “Fine. Eight. Five girls, three guys. And that includes one-night-stands in college.”

Loki frowned. “Eight? Is that all?”

“Why? What’s  _ your _ number?” she demanded.

Loki shook his head. “I mean no offense, but the way you spoke, you made it seem much higher. Even respectable ladies of Queen Frigga’s courts have more suitors than that before they marry.”

Darcy picked a taco apart to eat the fried shrimp with her fingers. “Huh. Well, okay then. What is it? How many?”

“Three,” Loki replied.

Darcy stared at him for several seconds, then blinked two or three times. “Three,” she echoed flatly. “You’re a thousand years old and you’ve been with  _ three _ people.”

Loki shrugged. “I had neither the time nor the options for a multitude of liaisons.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘options’?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged again, his body language deliberately casual. “I am not considered conventionally attractive on Asgard.”

Darcy straightened, a surge of indignant fury rising through her chest. “Says fucking  _ who _ ?” she demanded. “You’re frickin’  _ gorgeous _ !”

Loki scowled, a tinge of pink coloring his pale cheeks. “I’m glad you think so,” he said neutrally. He took a deep breath and finally met her gaze. “You, however, outshine every star in the sky.”

She tossed a wadded-up napkin at him. “You are terrible. And a flirt.”

He laughed and kissed her, chastely and quickly, but she could still taste the spices on his lips.


	3. Meetings and Partings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sweets!
> 
> My wife and I went out of town over the weekend to visit our nieces, so that's why this chapter was delayed. I have some vacation coming up in 2 weeks, but we will be staying home due to my wife's shitty immune system so I may(?) be able to update.
> 
> In the meantime, check out my blog at sineadsmith3.wordpress.com to keep up with personal updates, behind the scenes details, and occasional chapters of my original works.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Daniel asked gently, tightening his grip on her hand. “You don’t have to do this yet. Or at all, if you don’t want to.”

Darcy squared her shoulders. “I want to. I  _ need _ to.”

“Okay. Then let’s do this together, just like we practiced,” Daniel replied.

Darcy squared her shoulders and closed her eyes, reaching out with her other,  _ other _ senses that had begun developing at an exponential rate over the last few months. She could  _ feel _ the barrier between the Waking and the Dreaming, thin and pliable but impermeable to mortals.

Lucky that Darcy wasn’t mortal.

The barrier parted at her touch and she pulled it, opening a gap big enough for both her and Daniel to slip through. When she opened her eyes, she found herself at the gates to Dream’s palace. Wyvern and Griffin, two of the massive guardians of the gate, swung their heads around to stare at the two with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Master Daniel. Mistress Darcy,” Wyvern greeted them respectfully. “Do you wish to enter?”

Daniel waved with his customary cheer. “No thanks, Wyvern. Just stopping on our way to a skellig.”

“Very well,” Wyvern replied, arching its neck.

“The Master wishes both of your presences for dinner,” Griffin added. “He expects guests.”

“Please let him know we’ll be there,” Daniel said with a short bow.

“We?” Darcy asked archly. She still held Daniel’s hand and had no intention of letting go. This was her first time purposefully entering the Dreaming and she did  _ not _ wish to get lost. Dream had lectured her at length on the denizens of the Dreaming and many of them sounded terrifying.

Daniel looked at her in confusion. “You… you’re not going to go?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Darcy said with a shrug. “Who are these ‘guests’ of his?”

Wyvern yawned lazily, red tongue uncurling from between its teeth. “The Master intends to present Mistress Darcy as a Scion of the Endless,” it answered for Daniel. “He has invited many guests.”

Darcy frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘Scion of the Endless’? I thought I still had time to choose between legacies.”

“Oh, you  _ do _ ,” Daniel assured her. “Scion of the Endless just means that Dad is officially claiming you as his offspring and extending his protection and powers over you. So his allies are your allies and if anyone owes him a debt, they can repay it to you. If you choose to walk the path of the Eternals, you become a Scion of Dreams, like me.”

Darcy stared up at her much-taller older brother for a minute. “You never got a choice,” she said softly.

Daniel shrugged. “C’est la vie. Do you mind if we make a quick detour? I want you to meet Eve.”

She nodded. “Sure. She’s the one who helped raise you, right?”

“Yeah. She gets lonely, I think, and it’s not like her sons visit her very often. Cain is horrible to her and Abel is terrified of crossing Cain.”

Darcy stopped in her tracks, forcing Daniel to come to a sudden and awkward halt. “Wait. Are you talking about  _ the _ Cain and  _ the _ Abel? As in from the Bible?”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel said with a nod.

“So… Eve is  _ the _ Eve. The first woman. From the Garden of Eden.”

“Yes,” Daniel said slowly.

Darcy used her free hand to rub her eyes. “So what you’re saying is that the Christian Bible is correct and the Christian God is  _ the _ God?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Daniel corrected. “All gods that humans worshiped are real gods. They exist because they are worshiped. The collective power of combined belief brings them to life. Buddha, Allah, Shiva, Ba’al, Ishtar, Mithras; all of them are real and exist.”

“So where does Eve and the Christian god come into all of this?”

“Well, it’s believed that while there are many  _ gods _ , there is one  _ Creator _ , which is what the Christians worship. No one can really confirm this, because no one’s actually  _ met _ the Creator, not even the angels.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Angels are  _ real _ ?”

“Yes. But they’re non-denominational. Their main purpose is to guard Heaven and serve the souls there. And before you ask, yes. Heaven is real and is  _ also _ non-denominational. Good people go to Heaven, bad people go to Hell, regardless of religion or creed.”

“Who determines if people are bad or good?” Darcy asked.

Daniel shrugged. “Society. Karma. Again, no one’s really sure. But if someone spends their whole life lying and cheating people out of their money, they’re probably not going to Heaven. On the other hand, a doctor who performs necessary abortions in a country where it’s illegal is probably not going to Hell.”

“I see,” Darcy said. “I think.”

“You can ask Dad about it later,” Daniel told her, and pointed up ahead. “We’re almost there.”

The ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming seemed to solidify into a rocky, hilly area with patches of thick trees. A cave delved deep into one particularly large hill, and outside the cave sat a woman on a wooden stool. She used a drop spindle to spin wool into yarn. 

“Hello, Daniel,” she greeted without looking up from her task. Daniel leaned down and kissed her cheek.

“Hello, Eve. How are you?”

“As I ever am, my boy. As I ever am. Who is this, then?”

“This is my sister, Darcy,” Daniel introduced proudly, pulling Darcy forward. “We only just found out she was alive.”

Eve looked up then, fixing Darcy with an intense stare. Darcy stared back, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what Eve looked like. She was young-old-middle-aged; her hair was silver-blonde-brown-red. Her eyes were every color, her skin every shade. She was all women in one body, mother of all Creation.

“You look very much like your mother, child,” Eve said mildly, and went back to her spinning.

“You knew my mother?” Darcy asked, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Your father allowed her to roam freely in the Dreaming. I don’t think he gave any of his other lovers such liberty.”

“What was she like?” Darcy was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Eve smiled but remained focused on her spinning. “She was a wild one, that girl. Fierce as fire. Independent and indomitable. Full of life. I am sorry she died.”

Darcy sniffed hard against the threat of tears. “Thank you.”

“You should hurry along, my children,” Eve told them. “You have matters more urgent to attend to than to keep me company.”

“Nothing could be more urgent,” Daniel told her, kissing her cheek again. “But we are under a time restraint. I will see you soon, Eve.”

“Of course, my boy. And you, too, dear girl. I will see you soon.”

xXx

Loki was waiting for them when they finally arrived in his skellig. He could travel back and forth from his skellig and the Waking at will, but he could not bring passengers. Besides, Darcy needed the lesson. She released Daniel’s hand so she could lunge into Loki’s arms, burying her face against his chest and breathing deep. He smelled of fresh-fallen snow, balsam and bayberry. 

“I trust your journey was safe?” Loki asked.

“It was fine,” Darcy replied, her voice muffled. She pulled away reluctantly to bid Daniel farewell. He would return in a few hours to retrieve her, but he had no reason to stay for what was going to happen next.

“And you are certain you wish to do this?” Loki asked earnestly, studying her face closely.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Darcy retorted, sharper than she intended to. “Sorry. People just keep asking me that.”

“Because it is no small thing to confront your abuser,” Loki warned her. “Gertrude still has a hold over you, whether you know it or not.”

“Well, hopefully this severs all ties,” Darcy said, squaring her shoulders.

Loki told her vaguely about the punishments he had designed for Gertrude, and Darcy hadn’t objected. She was just happy to find out that Gertrude could never come after her again. Being here now, however, Darcy wasn’t sure what to expect.

Loki led her into the battlefield. The smell of burning flesh and blood and shit was not as strong as she expected, and when she tried to look at the piles of corpses she couldn’t seem to get her eyes to focus. Flocks of crows wheeled overheard, their silhouettes barely visible through the black haze.

A single tent stood in the middle of the field, made of green silk. The coat of arms displayed on the pennant flying over the tent was a green and gold serpent swallowing its own tail, its eyes red as blood. Loki pulled aside the flap and gestured for her to enter.

The floor of the tent was covered in carpets woven of the finest, softest wool, all in shades of green, gold, and gray. A wooden chair, almost a throne, sat at one end of the tent. There was no other furniture. “Sit, please,” Loki said, gesturing towards the chair. Darcy sat gingerly, pressing her hands between her knees.

The tent flap twitched aside again, and Gertrude stumbled inside, shoved unceremoniously by a woman who followed her inside. Darcy jumped to her feet involuntarily, her whole body going into fight-or-flight mode. Loki reached out and drew her to his side, tucking her closely under his arm, and she relaxed just slightly.

Gertrude looked… well…  _ healthy. _ She was clean, uninjured, and dressed in clean clothes. Her curly, blonde hair reached her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed shadowed, but otherwise she had not changed since Darcy had last seen her.

The strange woman forced Gertrude down onto her knees in front of Darcy and Loki. “I cleaned her up, like you asked,” she said, addressing only Loki. “I will stay to guard her.”

“That’s not necessary, Rook, thank you,” Loki said quickly.

The woman shrugged. “I am not busy.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said hesitantly. “But… who are you?”

Loki tightened his arm around her and gestured with his free hand. “Darcy, this is my oldest friend and companion: Greenlady Rook, Daughter of Kutkha.”

The woman bowed with a crooked smile. She was almost, but not quite, as tall as Loki, with smooth, brown skin and slanted, black eyes. Her blue-black hair hung in hundreds of slender braids almost to her waist, the sides of her head shaved down to the skin. She wore a simple black sleeveless tunic and black leather trousers. She had tattoos on her left arm identical to Loki’s.

“Well met, Darcy Gersemi, daughter of He That Weaves The Stories,” Rook said, pressing her right fist to her chest. “It is my honor to meet the beloved of my  _ fóstbróðir. _ ”

“Foster brother?” Darcy echoed, twisting to look up at Loki. 

“I spent a good portion of my childhood training with Rook at the Greencoven,” Loki told her. Darcy nodded in understanding.

“Ah. That’s why the Greenmother was so pissed at you.”

Loki winced but didn’t disagree. He led her back to the chair and helped her sit, arranging the skirts of the formal gown Daniel had brought her. Loki kept a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring weight that he was there, ready to leap to her defense at a moment’s notice. Finally, she turned her attention to Gertrude.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Darcy asked, doing her best to ignore the quaver in her voice. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Rook lean on the spear she carried in one hand, her expression studiously bored.

Gertrude raised her head to look straight at Darcy. “Have you come to punish me, too?” she asked bitterly.

“No,” Darcy replied. “I’ve come to release you from it.”

Gertrude looked confused. “I… I don’t understand. I thought…”

“Just to be clear,” Darcy interrupted. “I  _ don’t _ forgive you. I probably never will. You  _ starved _ me,  _ beat _ me, and tried to  _ kill _ me. You deserve to rot in a cell for the rest of your life. But I don’t and I will not condone torture without a trial.”

“You… want to put me on trial?” Gertrude asked, now thoroughly bewildered.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible, because then I’d have to reveal where I’m staying in the Waking World, and I’m not ready for that. So I’m going to cut you a deal.”

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”

Darcy took another deep breath. “You are going to acknowledge all of the horrible things you did to me, and then I’m going to put you into a skellig of your own. No torture. Just whatever your own head comes up with. You will spend the rest of your life in a coma, your mind confined to your skellig. You will never wake again.”

Gertrude darted a glance to first Loki, then Rook, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips. “No torture?” she asked.

“No torture,” Darcy confirmed.

“Fine, I agree,” Gertrude said almost before Darcy finished speaking. 

Darcy blinked a few times. “Uh… okay. Then let’s begin.”


	4. A Feast For Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have found a way to print off paperback versions of A Profound Silence. They will cost between $30-$35. I would need about 15 orders to make it cost effective, and I would need funds up front in order to pay for the prints. I also need a volunteer to beta-read the edited version of A Profound Silence I will be using for the print. I have reached out to a fan artist I know to design a cover, but if anyone else is willing to give it a go, I'd appreciate the offer! Please let me know if you're interested, and I'll see about setting up a gofundme or something.
> 
> Thanks!

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Daniel said, crossing his arms.

“Well,  _ I _ think it’s a  _ great _ idea,” Darcy retorted, her hands on her hips.

“You’re just trying to antagonize Dad,” he pointed out. “What are you hoping he’ll do?”

“That’s entirely up to him,” Darcy said. “If he wants me at this dinner party of his, Loki’s coming, too.”

“What if Loki doesn’t want to attend?”

Darcy took a deep breath to reply and then stopped. She turned to look up at Loki, who stood beside her. “Uh…  _ do _ you want to come?”

Loki frowned deeply. “Not… particularly,” he said slowly. Darcy felt her stomach clench in disappointment. “However I will accompany you if that is your desire.”

She couldn’t stop the flutter sensation in her abdomen. “You don’t mind?” she asked excitedly.

He offered her a crooked smile. “I have attended many a royal banquet and state function against my wishes. I believe I can suffer through this.”

“Suffer is probably the right word,” Daniel said dryly. “Dad will  _ not _ be happy he’s coming.”

“Dream does not have the right to have an opinion on my life choices yet,” Darcy told him. “I’ve only known he even existed for three months.”

Daniel didn’t reply, but he didn’t look convinced. He bypassed the gate of Dream’s palace and took them directly to a corridor in the residential wing. “That’s my room,” he said, waving toward a series of doors down the left-hand side. “Dad had Marvin build those for you.” He pointed at the doors on the right side.

“Who’s Marvin?” Darcy asked, crossing over to the closest door.

“Marvin Pumpkinhead. He handles maintenance for the palace and library. If you need anything added to your room, he can take care of it.”

Darcy paused in the act of turning the knob. “Does he have an  _ actual _ pumpkin for a head?”

“Yup,” Daniel said, and disappeared into his rooms.

Darcy exchanged a confused look with Loki, who only shrugged. He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?” She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room beyond was… not a room. The floor was covered in grass, dotted with flowers that Darcy didn’t recognize and was sure didn’t exist in the Waking. Off to her left, a large, egg-shaped thicket of vines grew from the grass without any visible support. Other pieces of furniture scattered over the grass in a seemingly random, but pleasing pattern. In the distance, Darcy could see a shimmering, blue lake and snow-capped mountains byond. The ceiling perfectly mimicked a summer sky, with massive, fluffy white clouds like spun sugar.

“Oh. Wow,” Darcy said breathlessly, stepping into the… place… and turning in a full circle. “This is  _ incredible _ !”

“Master Dream was  _ very _ specific about the design,” said a woman’s voice behind them. Both Darcy and Loki spun around to face the newcomer. She was young and petite, with shaggy brown hair and absolutely enormous green eyes. She wore a simple pink dress that reached her shins and left her shoulders and feet bare.

“My name is Nuada,” the woman said, and curtsied. “Master Dream says that I am to be your handmaiden, Mistress Darcy.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Darcy said firmly. “It’s  _ just _ Darcy, thank you very much. Oh, and this is my plus one, Loki.”

Nuada’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Grindalokki,” she said flatly.

Loki sighed heavily. “Nuada. Good to see you, as always.”

Darcy’s head whipped around. “You  _ know _ her?” she demanded. “How?”

“The Grindalokki used to accompany Greenlady Frejya and Greenlady Rook to the palace,” Nuada replied, her eyes still on Loki. “The palace attendants are all very familiar with him.”

“What did you  _ do _ ?” Darcy asked Loki.

“Nothing that wasn’t easily fixed,” Loki said firmly. “And that was some time ago, Nuada. I do not believe those events are relevant today.”

Nuada gave him one last unconvinced look before turning back to Darcy. “I’m here to help you dress for the feast, Mistress Darcy.”

“Just Darcy,” Darcy said again.

“ _ Miss _ Darcy,” Nuada haggled.

“Fine. Whatever. Just show me to the closet.”

The handmaid smiled. “But it’s right here, Miss Darcy.” She reached out and took hold of a doorknob that had not been there a moment before. With a twist of her wrist, she opened an invisible door into a second chamber. She beckoned Darcy to follow and then stepped through the door.

The closet was not as big as Darcy expected it to be. It was still very big, but not to an obscene length or anything. It was lit by candlelight but there was not a candle to be seen. Rows of clothing lined three sides. A massive chest of drawers dominated the center. Everything was made of wood and smelled of cedar.

“Loki, check this out!” Darcy called, crossing over to examine the first few outfits. The style and colors were outlandish and she didn’t recognize the materials.

“To be expected, for someone of your rank and title,” Loki observed mildly, looking around.

“What do you mean, my ‘rank and title’?”

He gave her a slightly puzzled look. “You are a Scion of the Endless,” he told her, as if she was supposed to understand the significance. She shook her head at him and he sighed. “You will see,” was all he said.

Nuada prevented any further conversation, firmly dismissing Loki and pulling Darcy into a one-woman fashion show until they found an outfit that they both approved of. It was not, to Darcy’s delight, a dress. She examined herself in a huge, bronze mirror that had appeared when Nuada snapped her fingers.

She wore a soft, silky tunic of silver-gray that fell just past her knees. It was embroidered with silver, white, and black thread, and the yoke was decorated with pearl and silver beads. To accompany it, she had a pair of the softest, thinnest wool leggings she had ever seen in a deep, sapphire blue. Nuada chose slippers of the same shade of blue, dusted with silver glitter, to finish the ensemble.

“How would you like me to do your hair?” Nuada asked briskly, eying Darcy’s disheveled, brown mane with a doubtful expression.

“Something that looks sophisticated?” Darcy asked, uncertain. She ran her hand over the shaved side. It had started out because dried blood clots don’t dissolve in water, and Darcy couldn’t be bothered to endure the excruciating process of combing them out. Then she decided she liked the style and kept it.

Nuada narrowed her eyes again, clearly taking the request as a challenge. Only a few minutes later, Darcy’s hair was braided and pinned up in a style worthy of a Hollywood red carpet, and makeup to match.

“Are you  _ actually _ magic?” Darcy asked in wonder.

Nuada giggled. “Well, I  _ am _ a fae, Miss Darcy.”

Darcy blinked. “Wait, you’re a faerie?”

“A  _ fae _ , Miss,” Nuada corrected gently. “I’m not a  _ faerie _ , I’m a Sídhe.”

Darcy groaned. “I’m so sorry. I actually know that. It just slipped out.”

Nuada smiled brightly. “It’s fine, Miss Darcy. I’m not offended.”

“Still, please accept my apologies,” Darcy insisted.

Nuada touched the palm of Darcy’s outstretched hand. “Accepted.”

Loki was waiting patiently for their return, having claimed a cream-colored armchair. He had a flower in one hand and a small magnifying glass in the other. He looked up as they approached, a frown creasing his brow. “Is this silphium?” he demanded sharply.

“It is,” Nuada replied coyly. She shot Darcy a sly look, winked, and then vanished into thin air.

Darcy clutched at her heart. “Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” she gasped. “People need to stop  _ doing _ that.” When her heart rate began to slow again, she looked over at Loki. He wore formal royal Asgardian clothing, complete with a pair of ceremonial daggers on his left hip. “What is silphium?”

Loki handed her the delicate blossom. It looked and smelled very similar to fennel. “It used to grow in abundance on Midgarðr,” he explained. “But Humans harvested it to extinction.”

“Why?” Darcy twirled the flower between her fingers.

“It is a natural contraceptive,” Loki told her dryly.

Darcy yelped and almost dropped the flower. “It’s a  _ what _ ?” she demanded shrilly. “Oh, me and Dream are gonna have words, believe you me.” She glared at the plant for a minute before letting it drop to the grass. Loki watched it fall.

“It appears I was mistaken,” he said at length. “Our races  _ are _ compatible, after all.”

She blinked at him a few times. “Compatible how?”

He met her gaze again. “We can reproduce safely.”

Darcy blushed bright red. “Oh. Right.” For a long moment they stood in awkward silence, contemplating the repercussions of Loki’s realization.

Finally he broke the silence. “You look very lovely.”

That didn’t help with her still-flaming face. “Thanks. So do you. I mean handsome. You look very husband. God!  _ Handsome. _ You look  _ handsome _ .”

The look he gave her made her hide her expression behind her hands. “Stop looking at me,” she ordered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. She quickly amended that thought because it was not outside the realm of possibilities for it to actually do so.

Loki laughed quietly and she peeked around her hands at him. He offered her his arm. “Your commendation honors me,” he said gently. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she warned him. He glanced at her wrist, where she still wore the bracelet he’d given her.

“I take nothing for granted,” he assured her. “Not anymore.”

xXx

The banquet hall was overwhelming. When Darcy and Loki stepped through the doors, they were assaulted by a kaleidoscope of colors and a booming voice that announced: “Darcy Gersemi and Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard!”

Darcy froze for a moment, trying to sort out what was going on. A gap in the chaos appeared in front of her, but it took her a moment to recognize that it was a person. A woman, only a few inches taller than Darcy, wearing a plain black t-shirt and black jeans with a silver-studded belt. A silver ankh hung from a chain around her neck, and an Eye of Horus was painted around her right eye. She had jet-black hair and a distinctly grayish tint to her skin.

“Hi, Darcy!” she greeted in a musical voice. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”

“Hi,” Darcy said unsteadily. “Who--who are you?”

The woman laughed. “Right. Sorry. I’m Death. But you can call my Aunt D. If you want.”

Darcy felt Loki stiffen beside her. He even pulled her back slightly, positioning himself between the two women. Death gave Loki a flat look.

“I’m not going to hurt her, Grindalokki,” she said. “She’s my blood. Why would I hurt her?”

“Perhaps you should ask Desire of the Endless,” Loki retorted coldly.

Death’s expression softened. “You have a point,” she admitted.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Darcy interjected, ignoring for the moment the fact that she was related to the personification of Death itself. “Daniel’s talked about you a lot.”

Death smiled sweetly. “Aw, he’s the best. Come on, you’re sitting with us.” 

As she turned to lead them through the crowd, Darcy leaned in towards Loki. “Why does everyone keep calling you ‘Grindalokki’?”

“Because it’s my name,” Loki replied, his eyes not on her but on the people surrounding them. Darcy deliberately did not follow his gaze.

“Wait, are you saying that  _ Loki _ is a nickname?”

“A particularly unimaginative one, yes,” he said. “My younger brother, Baldr, could not say my full name as a child, so Thor, my elder brother, decided to shorten it. I have rarely been called my full name since.”

Darcy tilted her head. “Do you  _ want _ to be called by your full name?”

He finally looked down at her. “Not by you,” he said in a strangely tender voice.

“Oh,” Darcy said softly. “Um… Is it okay if I kiss you right now?”

Loki chuckled softly and leaned down to press a kiss to her mouth, the very tip of his tongue skating along her bottom lip. When they broke apart, Darcy jumped with a half-stifled yelp.

Dream stood slightly too close for comfort, his ink-black hair standing out from his head like a spiky crown. His cloak completely enveloped him, the hem trailing several feet behind him on the ground. His eyes shone with golden-orange stars.

“ **Daughter. I am glad you decided to come,** ” he said in his cold, detached tone.

“Hello, Father,” Darcy replied, stepping away from Loki’s side and extending both hands toward Dream. “I’m happy to be here.”

Dream seemed taken aback to hear her call him ‘Father,’ which was exactly as Darcy intended, and it took him a moment to take her hands. Darcy bounced up on her tip-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. His skin felt so perfect it couldn’t possibly be real.

When she stepped back, Dream remained frozen in place, his eyes shining bright yellow. He stared at her for a long time in silence. Then, “ **I have a gift for you.** ”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Darcy protested.

“ **I did not purchase this. I made it.** ” Before Darcy could respond, Dream flicked his cloak aside and held out what appeared to be an identical cloak, only a bit smaller and hooded. “T **his will protect you from unwanted eyes, and keep you safe in the deep parts of the Dreaming.** ”

Darcy was speechless as she took the cloak from him. The fabric felt like silk and cashmere and cool, running water all at once. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She tried to flick it as effortlessly as Dream did to drape it over her shoulders, but Loki still had to help her straighten it. It sealed onto itself when she drew it together at her throat, and she lifted the hood to cover her hair. “I love it.”

For the first time since she met him, Dream smiled, just the tiniest curl at the corners of his thin mouth, but it made Darcy feel warm all the way down to her toes.

“Thank you, Dad,” she said quietly.

He inclined his head and then offered her his hand. “ **Please. The meal is about to begin.** ”

Darcy glanced behind her at Loki, who smiled and nodded. She took Dream’s hand and let him lead her to the table. A tall-backed chair dominated the head of the long table, with a smaller chair on either side. Daniel already sat in the right-hand chair. He waved and grinned at Darcy.

“Looks good on you!” he told her as she sat down.

“Thanks,” Darcy replied breathlessly. “Do you have one?”

“Oh, yeah. I got one as a kid. It grew with me.”

“It’s so soft…” Darcy marveled, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

“It’s warm when you need it to be and cool when you don’t. And it folds up to the size of a pocket kerchief.”

“That sounds useful.”

Dream picked up the gold cup on the table in front of him, stood, and raised the cup into the air. The hall fell silent so suddenly that Darcy’s ears were left ringing.

“ **Welcome to my home** ,” Dreaming said simply. “T **oday we honor my daughter, Darcy Gersemi. I hereby name her a Scion of the Endless, with all the privileges that entails. Is there anyone who disputes my claim?** ”

Five individuals stood around the table. The first, and old man dressed like a monk with a hood pulled low over his face, raised his cup. “I, DESTINY, DO NOT DISPUTE YOUR CLAIM,” he declared in a voice that rang through the hall like cathedral bells. He drank, then sat down.

Death lifted her glass. “I, Death, do not dispute your claim.” She drank and also sat.

A very short, very fat woman raised her cup. Her gray skin prevented Darcy from realizing right away that she was completely naked. “I, Despair, do not dispute your claim.”

A young woman, barely older than a teenager, jumped up to stand on her chair. Her hair was dyed every color of the rainbow, and she was dressed to match. A cloud of butterflies drifted around her, the light shimmering on their metallic wings. “I, Delirium, do not dispute your claim!” she yelled, waving her cup so hard that liquid spilled over the edges. Rather than drinking, however, she turned the cup over and dumped her drink onto the table.

All eyes now turned to the last remaining Eternal. They were perfectly androgenous, with blue-black hair falling in shining waves to their shoulder. Their burning, amber-gold eyes stared directly at Darcy, and she felt a cold grip clench around her heart.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable now. Finally the Eternal raised their cup. “I, Desire, do not dispute your claim,” they said in a rich, husky voice, and brought the cup to their glossy red lips.

Darcy released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, only to jump to her feet a moment later when a woman’s voice yelled angrily into the ensuing silence.

“ _ Grindalokki _ !”

Chairs were shoved back and guests scrambled to get out of the way, revealing Loki facing off with a woman Darcy had never seen before, but recognized instantly. She was dressed in green, but otherwise she was Darcy’s perfect twin.

Hnoss.

“Oh, this is not good,” Darcy whispered.


	5. A Healing Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh.... just a head's up... This chapter is very, very NSFW.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Also, I'm still looking for people interested in an actual book copy of A Profound Silence. I need at least 5 more people interested to make this venture cost effective. Please let me know ASAP.

_Three months ago:_

“Get out.” Darcy’s voice was flat and final. There was to be no argument, and Loki did not try to make one. “Take this with you.” She flung the bracelet at him. It struck his chest and he caught it when it fell. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

He wasn’t worried about her safety when he left the Waystation. The safe house had been built on an island that sat at the intersection of nine ley lines, making it invisible to anyone looking for it. It belonged to Frigga, the queen of Asgard and his adopted mother. He was fairly certain she would not be using it for the time being, not with things on Asgard so tenuous.

He used the wide stairs hewn into the rock to reach the shore below. The sands were black, the water nearly purple, capped with pink foam. He had always loved this place and, with his bare feet sinking into the sun-warmed sand, he remembered why.

It was the only place he had ever felt at peace.

He had done as he’d promised. He had told Darcy everything. From his involvement in the Jötun invasion of Odin’s vault to the key talisman he’d given Gertrude Lewis. Darcy was, understandably, furious. He looked down at the bracelet in his hand. She had not explicitly _said_ she wished him to dissolve their betrothal, but this was a very clear sign. He pretended, for a minute, that his heart didn’t ache, and couldn’t summon the energy for more than a moment or two.

He almost threw it into the ocean in a fit of pique but stopped himself. If nothing else, he had gone to a great deal of trouble to acquire the _seidrgilt_ and _vetr-grœn_ , and it was worth a great deal. If he had to find a hidden corner of the universe to hide in, he would need the funds. So instead he dismissed it to storage and continued to stare out morosely at the waves.

The sun grew heavy and red as it sank towards the distant horizon. Just as it met the line of the ocean, he sensed Darcy approaching the beach. He didn’t turn to look at her until she stood next to him.

“I don’t hate you,” was the first thing she said, much to his surprise. He waited to see what she would say next. She sighed deeply. “I’m… angry. Betrayed, I guess. I wish you had told me what you had planned with Gertrude.”

She lifted her face to meet his gaze, her blue eyes cold and hard as marble. “Do not _ever_ do anything like that again,” she said in an icy tone.

_I promise_ , Loki assured her. 

“If you have a plan that involves me in _any_ way, you tell me. Got it?”

Loki blinked. Did she… could she mean she still desired his presence in her life? Surely he was mistaken…

She took another deep breath. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore,” she said sadly. “But… I’m willing to let you earn it back, if you want.”

He was _not_ mistaken. _I want,_ he assured her. _I want much_.

She nodded firmly. “Good. Because I really like you, Loki. Even after all this shit. I like you and you’re sexy as fuck. So I’m not going to give up on us. But this is your last chance. Got it?”

He nodded solemnly. He would not betray her again.

She held out her hand. “Give me my damn bracelet back.”

He felt as if his skin was glowing when he clasped it around her wrist again.

xXx

_Present Day_ :

“He didn’t have to toss you out on your ass,” Darcy said, _again_ , still disgruntled. She poured clear liquid from a brown bottle onto folded gauze. It smelled strongly of alcohol.

“Yes, he did,” Loki told her. “Hnoss and I violated the Law of Hospitality. He had no choice.”

“Fuck the Law of Hospitality,” Darcy growled. “Hold still. This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.”

Loki had long ago stopped being offended by her strong language and was now merely amused by it. He raised his arm to give her better access to the shallow knife-wound on his ribs. Hnoss had not intended to kill him, just cause him pain. Which was fair, considering…

The liquid _did_ hurt.

“It is one of the three Laws of Obligation which rules the gods and immortals,” Loki explained through gritted teeth as she wiped the crusted blood from the wound. “A guest shall not deliberately cause harm to their host or another guest, and the host shall not deliberately cause harm to any guest.”

“I know, but Hnoss attacked you. You just defended yourself,” Darcy protested.

“I should have allowed Lord Draumr to defend me,” Loki replied. “I raised my hand against Hnoss and violated the Law.”

“Bullshit,” Darcy muttered. She stopped wiping the wound with the burning liquid and blew on the gash. The unexpected gesture startled Loki so much that he forgot the pain for a moment.

“What… what are you doing?” Loki asked.

“Cece always did that when we hurt ourselves,” Darcy said, her cheeks turning an attractive shade of pink. “Rubbing alcohol first, and then she blew the pain away. Sorry. It’s automatic at this point.”

“It’s charming.”

“Shut up.” Darcy blushed harder and picked up a white metal tube. “This is antibiotic cream. It should keep you from getting an infection. This will heal in a few days, right?”

Loki grimaced when she began spreading the ointment onto the open wound. “Unfortunately, no. Hnoss used an enchanted blade. It prevents me from healing as quickly as I normally do.”

Darcy scowled but didn’t look up from her task. “Wow. My sister is a bitch.”

“It’s nothing worse than what I did to her,” Loki admitted quietly.

She glanced up at his face then. “What did you do?”

“We were barely more than children, and I had just learned that Odin wished me to return to Asgard. I was angry, and Hnoss provoked me. She said… well, she said I had never belonged at the Coven in the first place. I challenged her to _mótï_ , and I won. I heard it took her months to recover.”

Darcy had a bandage in her hand, ready to attach it to his skin with adhesive strips. “A duel,” she said. “You challenged my sister to a duel and you kicked her ass.”

“Essentially, yes,” Loki agreed.

She smiled. “That’s badass.”

After Lord Draumr had thrown him and Hnoss out of the Palace into the Dreaming, Darcy had left to come after him. She had taken him to the small residence she rented from the shop owner for whom she worked. She had a few rudimentary medical supplies to tend his wounds, and his _mjorga_ handled the bruises.

Once the knife-wound was seen to, Darcy stripped off her gloves. “When is G Man expecting you back?”

“Not until Monday,” Loki replied, checking the watch Darcy had given him for Júl what felt like a lifetime ago. It was currently Saturday evening.

“Good. You can crash on my couch until then. I want to keep an eye on that cut. You hungry? It’s not like we got to eat much.”

“You don’t need to inconvenience yourself. There is hardly room here for both of us.”

Darcy laughed at him. “Babe, trust me. This place is plenty big. I had two roommates in a dorm room barely bigger than this back at Culver.”

The idea of living with _two_ others in a space this cramped was daunting to Loki. Darcy was indeed a unique woman. “How are your studies going?” he asked as she headed into the kitchen to wash her hands. Loki picked up his ruined under tunic and used magick to mend it before slipping it over his head. The movement was painful, but he managed without assistance.

“I finished,” Darcy announced as she returned. “Haven’t got my certificate yet, but I am officially a holder of a Bachelor’s Degree.”

“Congratulations,” he told her warmly, and patted her arm. He knew how much her education meant to her. He was happy that she had managed to complete it.

“It was tricky, getting the assignments in without alerting SHIELD,” Darcy explained. “But I had some help from my online hacker friends.”

Loki wasn’t sure what a ‘hacker’ was and declined to ask for an explanation.

“There’s leftover Thai in the fridge if you want, or I could order something new,” she offered.

“I am not particularly hungry.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Loki merely had other things on his mind. Darcy didn’t reply. Instead she curled up next to him on the couch, leaning into his uninjured side.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly.

He smiled faintly, looping his arm around her shoulders so he could pull her tighter against him. She was a warm, comforting weight, and anchor to tie himself to so he would not drift too far away. “Thank you for tending to me, Darcy.”

She hummed. “I like that.”

He looked down at her. “You like what?”

“The way you say my name.”

“Darcy.”

“Yeah. Like that. It’s nice to hear you say it. Actually, it’s just nice to hear your voice.”

“ _Darcy_.”

She pushed away from him enough so she could glare. “Okay, now you’re being a brat.”

He kissed her instead of replying, one hand caressing her cheek and his tongue begging entrance to her mouth. She responded in an instant, eagerly, as needing of the taste of him as he was for her. Since he had completed the spell to restore his tongue, he could think of nothing else but this, kissing her, _tasting_ her, and the tiny morsels she had given him had done nothing to slate his thirst.

She climbed into his lap, as she had done just a few days before, clumsily but avoiding his injury. “Fuck,” she whispered at one point, and he _wished_ he could take it as an invitation. His very skin hungered for the touch of hers, for caresses and friction and teeth and tongue and bruises and he _wanted_ her like he had never wanted anything before in his entire life.

When she stroked her fingers through his hair, tangled them in and pulled taut, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He growled, deep in his throat, animalistic and possessive, and pushed her back away from him. He only caught a glimpse of her disappointed expression before he roughly pulled her tunic up and over her head. He was, of course, mindful of the cost of the tunic, and it made it to the floor in one piece. He could not say the same of her brassiere underneath.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Loki,” Darcy gasped when he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth. The taste of her skin, faintly salty and floral from her soap, sent a bolt of heat from his brain to his groin and by now there could be no hiding his intentions. She shifted slightly on his lap and he groaned, his hands tightening around her waist to hold her still.

“Loki,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m still not on birth control.”

“Ymir’s _blood_ , woman,” Loki snarled. “I have several ways to prevent pregnancy, now stop _worrying_.”

“Oh, _fuck_.” Her hands found his hair again and pulled. “Talk to me like that again. That was-- mmmmhh. That was good.”

He nipped the side of her throat, dragged his tongue along her skin to her ear, suckled her earlobe. “You have teased me long enough, _Darcy_. I will not be made a fool of.”

She ground her hips down against his, and the intense response from his body nearly made him lose his breath. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Just like that.”

“I can think of better uses for my mouth,” Loki purred, one hand on her breast, caressing the soft fullness, teasing the rosebud tip. “And my tongue.”

Darcy dropped her face to meet his gaze, her pupils blown open wide from arousal. “I swear to god, Loki, if you do not fuck me _right now_ I will strangle you.”

“I might enjoy that,” he warned, and she shuddered, her eyes fluttering closed. He curled one arm under her buttocks and stood, lifting her as he did. She wrapped her legs around his waist and attacked his neck with her teeth, leaving several marks that would disappear by morning.

Her bed was only a few steady steps away, and then she was pinned underneath him, his mouth once again on her nipple while she played with his hair. She moaned so prettily, he thought. She would scream just as prettily. As he distracted her with his attention to her breasts, he eased her leggings down until she was completely bare. He filed away the sound she made when his fingers found her slick, hot center so that he would never forget it.

“Yes, _please_ ,” she begged. “ _Fuck_ yes.”

She writhed when he slipped his fingers inside her, his thumb pressed to her clit, and he held her down with his free hand and his mouth on her other breast. He could feel the flutter of her muscles around his fingers, and she made soft, gulping cries as he pressed deeper into her, babbling a combination of “ _fuck_ ” and “ _please_ ”. And when she climaxed, he thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He did not give her time to recover, though, and buried his face between her thighs, chasing the taste of her satisfaction. “Loki,” she panted, pulling at his hair. “Loki Loki Loki _Loki_.”

She chanted his name while he explored her center, swirling his tongue around her clit before diving inside her, lapping her up until she arched with a gasp and cried his name, doing her best to yank his hair out by the root. Only then did he let her rest while he wiped his face, casting aside his tunic and laying next to her to stroke her hair.

“You sure do know how to use that tongue,” she mumbled when she was able to speak again. She patted his chest. “Mhmm. And I thought you were good _before._ ”

He traced around her areola with one finger. She was utterly beautiful this way; spent, her skin dewed with sweat. The bright sunshine here had tanned her, and she clearly embraced it, as the portions of skin that had remained snow-white were very small.

“I am nothing if not a considerate lover,” he informed her proudly.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, lightly raking her nails down her chest. “You _sure_ are.” She snuggled closer to him, pressing her face against the side of his neck. “I missed this. I missed _you_. Let’s not fight ever again.”

“Agreed,” Loki replied instantly, his hand drifting lower, and then lower still.

Darcy’s eyes snapped open. “Uh-uh,” she ordered firmly, reaching down to catch his hand. “You’ve done enough for me. I think it’s your turn.”

“Oh yes?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow. “And what do you plan to do for me?”

She sat up and pushed him over onto his back, remembering the wound in his side, perhaps better than he did. “Off,” she ordered, tugging on the waist of his own leggings. He raised his hips so she could pull them down and off, her eyes on his _very_ erect arousal.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she said again, feelingly. Then, to his complete astonishment, she bent down and took him in her mouth. The shock of it prevented him from moving for several very unsteady heartbeats. He barely had time to register the sensation of her mouth, of her tongue, of the warm slide before she straightened again and laughed at the sight of his face.

“Easy, there, big boy. Save some of that for later,” she teased him. She straddled his hips, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “You man enough for me to be on top?”

He grabbed the back of her thighs and squeezed, hard enough to leave red marks. “I will take you in _any_ position,” he promised her, his voice raw and husky.

“Oh, I will _definitely_ take you up on that later.”

She remembered their first time, the awkwardness and the pain, and now she went slowly, working him into herself with excruciating slowness until he was fully sheathed and it was _breathtaking_ . She was _warm_ and _slick_ and _tight_ and as she began to roll her hips, as the friction began to build, so did the heat and the moisture and she began to relax around him.

He dug his fingertips into the muscles of her buttocks, meeting her rhythm with thrusts of his own. She clawed her nails down his chest, leaving welts behind and it felt as if stars were dying behind his eyes. Darcy moaned, her head thrown back, strands of her hair caught in the sweat on her face. The sight of ecstasy on her face only complemented his until finally, _finally_ , he found his release and only a second later, Darcy found hers with a throaty cry that was almost, but not quite, a scream.

Ah, well. He would have to try harder next time.

He would never remember that he forgot to paint the prevention spell on their skin.


	6. Grand Gestures of Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter. It was, shall we say, fun to write....
> 
> Remember, I'm still looking for people interested in getting a physical book copy of A Profound Silence. Right now I need at least 4 more people interested. We are still in planning; the cover and title page still need to be developed, and Traxus_IV has graciously agreed to proofread the manuscript. I am hoping to do the same with A Bittersweet Dream! Anyway, cost would be about $35 including shipping. Please email me at smortiz0310@gmail.com if you are interested.
> 
> (No, Sinead Smith is not my real name :-D)

The next few weeks fell into a pleasant routine. Loki arrived at her apartment on Friday night. They did not leave the apartment until Saturday afternoon. Sunday was still family dinner, although things were even  _ more _ strained between Dream and Loki. And then Loki would return to Manhattan Monday morning before dawn. If Darcy had a Facebook, she would have happily updated her status to “in a relationship.”

On Fridays Darcy helped Brent with surfing lessons. She wasn’t certified to be an instructor, but she rented boards, took payments, and handled sign-ups and scheduling. Beach Break had a small tiki hut on the beach with an industrial fan where she could work without dying of heat stroke. Still, she dressed appropriately. Today she wore a baby blue tank top minidress with a Beach Break Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi Didi!” exclaimed a gap-toothed nine-year-old girl as she bounced up to the hut.

“Hi, Mei-ming,” Darcy greeted. “Come for the usual?”

“Yes! The pink, one please,” Mei-ming replied, holding out her mother’s credit card. Fridays saw the most children, especially during the summer. Saturdays and Sundays were mostly adults trying to get some surf in on the weekend.

“How’s your surfer’s knots? You use the ostrich?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah, worked like a charm!” Mei-ming said as she accepted the small pink board that might as well have her name on it.

“Great! Get out there, and no mullering!”

“Thanks, Didi!”

Two hours later Brent stopped by the hut for the water and food in the cooler. “It’s going off today, Didi. Good clean waves. You wanna hop on?” He was only about six inches taller than Darcy, thin and wiry as a hempen rope. He was Polynesian, his mahogany-colored skin covered in traditional tattoos, and wore his hair in a single braid down his back.

“Nah,” Darcy replied with a shrug. “My boyfriend’s in town tonight, and I don’t wanna be tired and gross.”

“Tomorrow, then?” Brent wheedled. “I could use a TA. Maybe show off for your cute boytoy.”

Darcy snapped a towel at him. “You are  _ married _ , sir. And Luke is  _ mine _ . Hands off.”

“I’m happily married, yes, but I got eyes,” Brent told her. “And that man of yours is  _ fine _ .”

“Wait til I tell Owen you said that,” Darcy threatened.

“Honey, he  _ agrees _ with me. Those cheekbones? Mmm. Perfection.”

Darcy sighed dreamily. “I know, right?”

“Has he seen you surf?”

“No. He barely knows what surfing is. He’s… uh… from Norway. He’s been in the states for, like, eight months or so?”

“They surf in Norway, Didi.”

“Well,  _ he _ didn’t.”

Brent laughed and finished his water bottle. “Then you are  _ def _ gonna have to show him your moves. You are still one of the best students I ever had. No one else has won as many competitions as you have.”

Darcy smiled and shrugged. “Eh. I had a lot of time on my hands.”

The crunch of sand heralded a possible customer, and both of them turned to face the newcomer. Darcy met the man’s eye and her heart plummeted into her stomach.

“ _ Darce _ ?” he asked in disbelief. “What are  _ you _ doing here?”

Brent immediately went into high alert. Like Owen, he was very protective of Darcy and knew she was hiding, just not who from. “He ok, Didi?” he muttered for her ears only.

“No, but it’s too late,” Darcy muttered back, and pasted on a neutral smile. “Hey, Chase. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Chase stared at her silently for several seconds. “You changed your hair.”

Darcy rubbed the shaved side. It felt nice, like stiff velvet. “Yup.”

“I don’t like it.”

Darcy dropped her hand. “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she retorted.

Chase rolled his eyes. “See, that was always your problem, Darcy-Darce. You never cared about anyone else’s opinions.”

She took a deep breath to center herself. “What are you doing here, Chase?”

“I came to surf,” he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m here for the summer from Cambridge but Dad packed up all my boards while I was gone and I haven’t had time to buy one yet.”

“You’re at Cambridge?” Darcy asked. A spike of jealousy stabbed through her chest. She should have been at Harvard, or at least waiting to start. Her letter of acceptance had arrived at Cece’s house two months ago, now completely useless.

“Yeah. I got into the international law program at the beginning of last semester,” Chase informed her with bald pride. “I remember we talked about going together. What happened to that plan?”

“I raised my standards,” Darcy snapped.

Chase looked around the tiki hut, and then up and down at Darcy’s outfit. “Clearly. You ever finish your undergrad?”

“You want a board, or are you gonna distract my TA?” Brent interrupted. “I got a business to run here and it ain’t a dating service.”

“You work for Beach Break?” Chase asked with a laugh. “Wow, Darce. I guess Dad was right about you after all.”

The background sound of the beach abruptly vanished, replaced by a high, crystal ringing. Darcy felt like her skin was charged with electricity, every hair standing on end. She tasted rain and blood on her tongue, and a rush of energy started at the base of her spine and surged up into her brain. Green fire licked along her fingertips, edged by a strange darkness.

Brent grabbed her arm, and Darcy snapped back to reality. “Didi is working for us over the summer until she goes back to Harvard,” he said with an overly polite smile. “Now, I can see you are a man of discerning tastes. I have a board here that I’ve been holding back. Brand new. Maybe you’d like to think about purchasing?”

While Brent distracted Chase, Darcy beat a hasty retreat toward the water. She waded out until the swelling waves soaked the hem of her dress and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt flushed, hot, as if she had been drinking. 

She had no idea she was that close to losing control.

Along with weekly lessons with Daniel, Darcy had begun training in the Greensong with Loki. The earth magicks came easily to her, not unsurprisingly, but she was still struggling with control. She always used too much or too little energy. And this time, it had definitely been too much.

Once she felt safe to be around, she waded back to the shore only to find Chase waiting for her, his new board propped up beside him.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. Harvard, huh? Right on. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said tersely.

“Maybe I can buy you a drink later?” he offered. “I know this great sushi place right on the marina. My dad has a standing reservation. Otherwise it’d take months to get in.”

“I have plans.”

“Oh.” Chase looked put out and confused. “Okay. Maybe later then. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I guess.” Darcy headed back to the hut without a backwards glance.

Later, with Loki’s face buried between her thighs, she forgot all about the whole incident.

xXx

“You wanna go out or stay in,” Darcy called over the sound of the shower. It was, sadly, too small for both of them, so she had already had her turn and was now going through the delivery menus of the nearby restaurants.

“I would like to stay in, I think,” Loki replied. He had painstakingly removed all the beads and braids from his hair and later he would, with Darcy’s help, replace all of them. Darcey leaned against the doorframe to enjoy the view while he shampooed his hair.

She bit her lower lip. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” she agreed. “What are you feeling? Protein, healthy, or carb fest?”

“Yes,” Loki said, grinning at her through the glass shower door. Darcy rolled her eyes. It was a good thing he always paid for food (in cash) whenever he was over, because otherwise he would quite literally eat her out of house and home. She’d noticed that he’d put on some weight in the last three months, but it had only served to make him look healthier. His ribs didn’t stick out  _ quite _ so much anymore. And it made his ass look even better, if that was at all possible.

Darcy continued to flip through the menus. “Ooh. You haven’t tried Indian yet, have you?”

“Is that a dish or a cuisine?”

“Cuisine. It can be really spicy if you want it to. I think you’d like it.”

“Excellent.”

Darcy used the ancient landline (it was wired into the wall!) to place an order for pretty much one of everything on the menu. When she gave the address as Beach Break, that was enough for the restaurant to accept the promise of cash payment. Everyone knew Owen and everyone knew he was nothing if not honest.

Loki sat on the floor between Darcy’s knees in the living room while they waited. She worked a conditioning serum through his long, silky black hair before combing the tangles out and starting to braid.

“I, uh, I almost lost control today,” she admitted.

“How?” Loki demanded sharply.

“I was having a problem with a customer, and I got really angry. Like,  _ really _ angry. And then everything sort of crystallized and I summoned void-fire. If Brent hadn’t been there I might’ve obliterated the customer.”

Loki didn’t reply for a long time. “Have you been meditating?”

“Sometimes,” Darcy admitted grudgingly. “When I remember.”

“ _ Darcy _ .”

“I  _ know _ , I  _ know _ . I just get distracted.”

“Knowledge of oneself is the first step to control. Without control--”

“There is no power, just destruction,” Darcy finished for him. “Loki, I  _ know _ . I guess I’m just too ADHD to sit and stare at the insides of my eyelids for fifteen minutes each day.”

“What is that? ADHD?”

“Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder,” Darcy explained. “I was diagnosed in fifth grade. Grade, um, it’s a level of education for children.”

“What are the symptoms?”

“Well, it’s different for girls than it is for boys. In girls it’s mostly distraction, disinterest in tasks, anxiety, memory issues, fatigue, inability to focus, and hyperfixation.”

“Hyperfixation?”

“An all-consuming obsession with a single subject. Like when I was a kid, after I got away from Gertrude, I was  _ obsessed _ with Star Wars. It’s a series of movies. Like, I wanted  _ everything _ to do with it. Books, toys, clothing, the works. A few years later, I’d moved on to Doctor Who. TV series.”

Loki hummed to himself and tapped his lips. “Freyja exhibited all of those symptoms as well,” he murmured.

Darcy froze. Loki had not mentioned her mother once since they’d returned to earth from the Waystation. It had been awkward for half a second to be dating (and sleeping with) one of her biological mother’s best friends, but it wasn’t like Darcy had known Loki or her mother her entire life, so it had been easy to ignore.

“She did?” Darcy asked softly.

“Yes, much to the Greenmother’s frustration. I think that was one of the reasons Freyja left when she did.”

“Whoa. Back the truck up. Freyja  _ left _ the Greencoven?” Darcy demanded, tugging on Loki’s hair sharply.

“Yes. When she met Draumr and he invited her to live with him, she never returned to the Coven.”

“Why does no one  _ tell _ me these things?” Darcy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. Loki turned around so he could face her.

“I think there is so much to tell that things get lost,” he said. “It is difficult to remember every detail when trying to give you your family history.”

“So is that why the Greenmother is so eager to get her witchy claws into me?”

“Very much so, I would guess. She was desolate when Freyja died. I imagine she sees you as a chance to get her daughter back.”

“I am  _ not _ Freyja,” Darcy said firmly.

“No. No, you are most certainly not,” Loki replied, his voice going husky and low, eyes hooded suggestively.

Darcy leaned back and shoved her foot against his bare chest. “Down, boy. You had me all night long. I’m  _ hungry _ .” A knock on the door prevented his response. “That was fast! Can you grab that? I need to wash my hands.”

Loki rose to his feet and stretched languidly, his tattoos rippling along taut muscles. Darcy paused to ogle him before continuing toward the sink. She heard the door open as she turned on the water, and then a horribly familiar voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

xXx

Charles Everett “Chase” Barrett IV, of the San Diego Barretts, was used to getting what he wanted. What his father lacked in affection he made up in gifts, and Chase took great advantage of this. And, as he was largely ignored by his father in favor of an endless parade of increasingly-younger girlfriends, Chase was generally allowed to do whatever he wanted to do.

In fact, the only time his father had criticized him was when he brought Darcy home to meet him. His father had been openly disgusted by his choice of girlfriends (not that he had any right to be), and told Chase that Darcy was, essentially, white trash.

But Darcy was fun and reckless and brave and uninhibited, all the things that Chase wished he could be, instead of a semi-responsible, cultured, country-club trustee owner.

They had met during the summer after their first semester in college. Chase had gone to LA instead of joining his father in Montreal, where he had been working. They’d ended up as competitors in some small surfing competition he’d entered on a whim, and she’d spent most of the rest of the summer living at his sub-let. They’d parted ways in the fall, but he’d transferred to Culver to surprise her. She had not taken it well, and he’d spent the entire semester trying to convince her to change her mind. She had played hard to get, and all the normal grand gestures hadn’t worked. In the end, his father had ordered him back to Yale, permanently ending their relationship.

And he had not gotten her out of his head since.

So after seeing her on the beach, he went to Beach Break to talk to her the next day, to ask her again for a drink. If he could get her loosened up, maybe he could remind her of all the fun they’d had, how good they’d been together, and she would fall back into his arms, begging his forgiveness and professing her love.

But apparently she had Saturdays off, and the owner of the surf store refused to give him her phone number. It was only by chance that he saw her in the window of the apartment over the shop, walking past wearing only a towel.

He stood at the door to the apartment, debating on whether he should knock. He should go get flowers. But if he left, there was no guarantee Darcy would be home when he returned. So he took a deep breath and knocked.

The lock turned only a moment later, and the door swung inwards. Chase started to smile but his expression immediately dropped when he saw who had answered.

The man was tall, nearly half a head taller than Chase. He wore a pair of loose, dark green pants and no shirt, which revealed the greenish-gold tattoos that covered his entire abdomen and left arm. The man was also  _ very _ fit; lean but muscular enough to be dangerous if he wanted to.

“Who the hell are you?” Chase blurted before his brain caught up with him.

The man frowned. “I am… Luke. Darcy’s boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Chase said. Well, that was a minor setback. He didn’t know she had a thing for tattoos. “Is Darcy here? I’d like to talk to her.”

The man--Luke--arched a perfectly groomed, black eyebrow. “And you are…?”

“I’m an old friend of hers,” Chase said, and extended his hand. “Charles Barrett IV. Call me Chase.”

“Babe, who is it? Is it the food?” Darcy appeared under Luke’s arm, wearing an oversized green t-shirt and blue striped sleep pants. “Chase? What the hell are you doing here? How did you know I lived here?”

The change in Luke’s body language was instant and palpable. Chase found himself taking a long step backwards just to put some distance between them.

“So you do know this man?” Luke asked Darcy.

“Yeah. He’s my ex from, like, three years ago. He’s the customer I was telling you about earlier.”

Luke stared at Chase with an openly hostile glare, his pale eyes almost animalistic and definitely creepy. “I think it would be best if you left, now,” he said in a low growl.

“Uh, yeah, I can see you’re busy. Maybe I’ll see you around, Darce.” Chase beat a hasty retreat to his Lexus parked in the alley. He would have to rethink his strategy before he tried again.

xXx

“What,” Loki asked as he closed the door. “Could you have  _ possibly _ seen in  _ him _ ?”

Darcy shrugged defensively. “I don’t know. I was young and stupid. Well, young _ er _ . Not a whole lot less stupid.”

“That’s not fair,” Loki admonished. “Your taste in partners has  _ vastly _ improved.”

Darcy laughed. “Ego? What ego?”

Loki bent to kiss her fiercely. “Do you want me to, as the humans say, ‘Take care of him’?”

“No, he’s harmless. I’m pretty sure you scared him away for good.”

The doorbell rang, and Darcy brightened. “That must be the food this time.” It was, and Loki brought it to the kitchen table, unpacking the paper bags and opening the cartons. The aroma of heavily spiced-food quickly filled the apartment, and Darcy’s stomach turned violently.

She made it to the bathroom without attracting Loki’s attention, and emptied her breakfast into the toilet. Her first thought was that she had had too much sun, but she hadn’t set foot outside at all that day. As she rinsed her mouth out, her eye fell on the unopened box of tampons on the counter.

Oh.

Oh  _ no _ .

Darcy quickly did a mental tally of days.

  
“Oh,  _ fuck _ .”


	7. No Is A Complete Sentence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not get used to daily updates. I have time at work to write, and the shorter chapters definitely speed things along, but I am going on vacation from the 17th-23rd and I cannot guarantee I will post during that time.
> 
> And, as always, if you are interesting in obtaining a physical book copy of A Profound Silence, please email me at: smortiz0310@gmail.com. Or PM me on Insta: @sinead_smith_3.

Darcy stared at the plastic wand in her hand. It was not positive. Which would have been more of a relief if it had shown a definitive negative, which it didn’t. With a sigh of frustration, she threw the pregnancy test into the trash with the other two.

She wasn’t sure what to do next. She could go to a clinic and get a blood test, but she didn’t want anyone else to have access to her blood, especially now that she knew she wasn’t even remotely Human. Besides, she didn’t know how far SHIELD’s reach was or what sort of access they had to hospital records.

There were plenty of people she could ask for help. Loki, for one. But Darcy was more than a little peeved at him at the moment. He had  _ promised _ her she wouldn’t get pregnant, and yet here she was, four weeks late for her period. If he hadn’t conveniently been in Manhattan, she would probably have tried to kill him.

She was twenty-one, for Christ’s sake. She was in no way, shape, or form ready to be a  _ mother _ . And certainly not with someone whom she’d only known for eight months. She could no longer object to his being an alien since, you know: pot, meet kettle.

Darcy left the bathroom and went to the bedroom. She’d taken a sick day in order to perform the tests and figure out what the  _ fuck _ she was supposed to do next. She pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out the cloak her father had given her. Not only was it incredibly soft and warm, it had pockets. Well, one pocket, really. But it could fit literally anything you put in it.

She rummaged around in the pocket for a moment before pulling out three small tokens. The first was her father’s; a helm forged from the skull and spine of some ancient, primordial god he had defeated in the dawn of time. The second was a glass ball the size of a marble filled with swirling colors. Darcy immediately replaced that one. The third token was a silver ankh, already warming from the heat of her hand.

Darcy weighed the two tokens for a moment, debating on which Eternal she wished to call upon. She could only guess her father’s reaction. She didn’t need that kind of drama, so she shoved his token back into the cloak. She took hold of the ankh with both hands.

“Death, I don’t have a gallery, but I hold your sigil and I need your help. Will you speak with me?”

“Oh  _ course _ I will, sweets!”

Darcy spun around to see Death standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She still wore black jeans and a silver-studded belt, but today she wore a black peasant-style blouse embroidered with gray and red flowers.

“What can I help you with?” Death asked, walking over to put her hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Anything. Well,  _ almost _ anything, but I think you know the rules by now.”

“I think I’m pregnant,” Darcy blurted, almost before Death was finished speaking.

Death fell silent for a moment, blinking her slanted, black eyes. “Oh,” she said softly. “I see. And… you don’t want to be pregnant?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy admitted. “I’m not even sure if I  _ am _ . I mean, I’m, like, a month late for my period but the tests were all inconclusive because they test for hormones and I’m not even human so I probably don’t even have the same hormones and if I  _ am _ then I have no idea what I’m supposed to do!” She ran out of breath and had to gasp for air when she finished talking.

“Okay,” Death said slowly. “So, for right now, do you just want to know if you  _ are _ pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you  _ are _ .”

Darcy sat down on her bed, her legs feeling weak suddenly. “Oh. Awesome.”

Death crouched in front of Darcy and took her hands. “I can tell you’re not thrilled. Just know that whatever you need, I’m gonna be here for you, okay sweets? You’re my niece. You’re family. I got your back.”

Darcy nodded, too overwhelmed at the moment to speak. Death squeezed her hands and got back to her feet. “I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay? I’ll be right back.” When she was alone, Darcy grabbed her pillow and clutched it to her chest. She thought she might want to cry but her eyes were dry. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be feeling right now, but she definitely wasn’t feeling  _ that _ .

Death returned a few moments later with Darcy’s favorite mug. Loki had retrieved it from Cheyenne Mountain for her. It was the one he’d given her that said “I’ll Drink Decaf When I’m Dead.” Death offered her the mug silently, and Darcy accepted without a word, raising it to her face to smell the steam.

It was chamomile with a bit of honey, nothing exotic or unfamiliar. Somehow that made the gesture even kinder. Darcy sipped the hot liquid and instantly felt better.

“I don’t know if I want to be a mom,” she said suddenly.

Death sat on the bed beside her and stroked her hand over Darcy’s hair. “You don’t have to be. There are many ways to safely end a pregnancy. Especially this early. I have about half a dozen on me right now.”

Darcy frowned. She was very much pro-choice, and had supported a number of college friends during their abortions, but she wasn’t ready to make a decision quite yet.

“Or,” Death continued, “If you want to carry the pregnancy to term, it would be easy to find someone to care for the child for you. Eve, for example, would be happy to raise another baby. She loved taking care of Daniel. Um… and you could always give the child to the Greencoven. If it’s a girl, of course.”

Darcy blinked. “Why only a girl?”

“The Greencoven only accepts women for training,” Death replied. “Whether they identify as a woman or were born one.”

“But Loki trained at the Coven,” Darcy pointed out. “I assure you, he is definitely male. Case in point.” She gestured towards her stomach.

Death sighed. “Oh. I thought he might have told you by now.”

“Told me  _ what _ ?” Darcy demanded.

“The Grindalokki is a shapeshifter, sweets. He, or rather  _ they _ , can take any form that pleases them; male, female, both, or neither.”

Darcy slapped her hand against her forehead. “ _ Stupid _ . I knew that. Well, sort of. He told me that the Grindalokki was a shapeshifter, but at the time I didn’t know that  _ he _ was the Grindalokki.” She rubbed her face. “Yeah. Okay.”

Death rubbed her back. “You don’t have to make a decision today, Darcy,” she said softly. “You have about six months before the fetus even has brain activity.”

Darcy’s head whipped around so she could stare at her. “Wait. Six  _ months _ ? What the hell? How long am I going to be pregnant for?”

“Well, it depends.”

“On  _ what _ ?”

“How long you spend in the Dreaming during the gestation, mainly. The fetus won’t grow while you’re in the Dreaming. Otherwise, I think the standard gestation period for a Vanir is… two… earth years?”

“Are you fucking  _ serious _ ? Two fucking  _ years _ ? Holy shit.” Darcy jumped to her feet, letting the pillow drop to the floor. “I thought nine months was going to be bad. Two whole-ass years. What the hell?”

“Vanir are very long-lived. It stands to reason it would take longer for them to fully gestate.”

Darcy stopped pacing and sipped her tea again. “Okay, well, what’s it going to be like? Are we talking morning sickness, mood swings, cankles, or what?”

Death shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not around a whole lot of pregnant Vanir. Most of their pregnancies carry to term, and when they don’t, they terminate before brain activity. I don’t have anything to do with anyone until their brain recognizes themselves as an individual.”

“So… life  _ doesn’t _ start at conception?”

“Nope. Life begins with self actualization. Which for most species in this galaxy does happen in utero, but definitely not at the beginning.”

“Huh. Neat.” Darcy took a few more sips from her tea. “So if I decide to terminate…”

“It could be as simple as drinking a special tea, or a relatively simple spell. You see, there are magicks designed to rid the body of certain cancers, and most of them recognize an early-stage embryo as a cancer. Once brain activity is detectable, though, it requires a medical procedure.”

“Okay,” Darcy said unevenly. She sat down again and Death wrapped har arm around her shoulders.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweets. I promise you.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said, and she realized she felt a lot calmer than she had half an hour ago. “Can I ask you one last favor?”

“Of course, sweets.”

“Can you walk me to my foster mom’s house? I’m not really comfortable moving through the Dreaming by myself.”

Death smiled. “You got it, kiddo. Cloak up and let’s go.”

xXx

Death left before Darcy rang the doorbell, declining to meet Cece. Death said that it was because she didn’t really interact with living Humans, but Darcy knew it was because Cece probably wouldn’t react well to meeting the anthropomorphic personification of Death herself.

She removed her cloak and tucked it into her back pocket. Cece was having a hard enough time coming to grips with the fact Darcy wasn’t Human. Darcy didn’t want to make it any harder on her.

Cece looked surprised and worried when she answered the door. “Dee, hon, what are you doing here?” she asked, leaning out of the doorway to glance suspicious around before yanking Darcy into the house. “Is everything okay? Were you followed?”

“I was  _ definitely _ not followed, and sort of. Actually, sort of  _ not _ . I’m not really okay.”

Cece pulled Darcy into a hug, patting her hair. “Oh, baby. What happened?”

Darcy clung to Cece and the tears finally came, dripping down her nose and onto Cece’s shirt. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

Cece leaned back to stare at her foster daughter. “You’re… you’re sure?”

Darcy bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“And… it wasn’t on purpose?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Oh, hon…” Cece hugged Darcy again. “Okay. We can handle this. Are you hungry?”

“I’m  _ starving _ , but literally everything gives me nausea.”

“I know just the thing.”

Twenty minutes later, Darcy sat at the kitchen table across from Cece, a plate of rice and a steamed egg in front of her. The food was bland as hell, but at least her stomach didn’t immediately reject it.

“Have you talked to Loki?” Cece asked into the silence. Darcy glared at Cece.

“How did you know it was his?” she asked sullenly. She tried to explain everything to Cece, but she had conveniently left out the part where she and Loki were kinda sorta together.

“Dee, hon, I could tell you were in love with him the first time I met him,” Cece told her gently.

“I’m not-- I don’t…” Darcy trailed off, unwilling to lie to the only mother she had ever really had. “No. I haven’t. I only found out for sure this morning.”

“What is your next step, then?” Cece asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I need to figure out whether I’m going to keep it or not.”

Cece reached over and put her hand over Darcy’s. “Darcy, listen to me. Before you make any decision, you  _ need _ to talk to Loki. This is his decision, too. And his responsibility. Whatever happens, you should do it together.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, the threat of tears returning. She picked at the scuffed table for a few moments. “I’m mad at him.”

“Why?”

“He  _ told _ me he was going to keep me from getting pregnant, so I wasn’t on birth control or anything.  _ That _ was a lie, I guess.”

“No protection is one hundred percent effective, hon. You know that.”

“Magick should be,” Darcy muttered.

Cece cleared her throat but didn’t reply. After another brief silence, she asked, “Why don’t you stay with us for a few days. You don’t need to be alone right now.”

Darcy sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. “Okay. Loki doesn’t get back until Friday night, anyway. I guess I’ll talk to him then.”

Cece patted her hand. “That’s a good plan. Come on. Let’s go get your room ready.”

“You haven’t turned it into storage space or anything, have you?”

“Haven’t touched a thing.”

As they crossed the living room, Darcy heard a hoarse, moaning sort of cry from the back yard. She recognized it instantly as Jesse’s distress scream. She bolted towards the back door without hesitation, almost tripping over the threshold in her haste.

Jesse stood on the back deck at the steps down to the small yard. The yard only had a low picket fence, so they often dealt with drunk beach-goers who got lost on the way to their hotel. When Darcy saw who it was that had upset Jesse, she wished it  _ was _ some drunk tourist.

“I should have brought flowers, huh?” Chase said sheepishly, holding a gift-wrapped package in one hand. “Yeah. Should have brought flowers.”

“Chase, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?” Darcy demanded, getting in between Chase and her younger brother. Jesse had stopped screaming as soon as Darcy arrived, and now huddled behind Darcy, holding onto the back of her t-shirt.

“I came to see you,” Chase told her. “I went back to Beach Break but they said you’d taken a sick day, and you didn’t answer the door at your apartment, so I came here.”

“You’re in the  _ back yard _ ,” Darcy pointed out. “You scared my brother. If you are trying to apologize, this is  _ not _ the way.”

“Well, you won’t give me your phone number, so it’s not like I could call,” Chase protested. “Look, Darce. I just want to take you out for a drink. Just one drink.”

“I have a  _ boyfriend _ , Chase!” Darcy yelled. “And I said  _ no _ .”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Chase wheedled. “We had fun together, remember? I just wanna have some fun while I’m here. You liked it, remember?”

“It was three years ago. And I told you I wasn’t interested in anything long term. I  _ told _ you that when you showed up at Culver.”

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head,” Chase said, waving the gift around. “I  _ miss _ you, Darcy-Darce. Come on. What does that guy have that I don’t?”

“Respect,” Darcy snapped, and turned her back on him. “Let’s go inside, Jesse. Everything’s fine.”

Cece stood at the door, her phone in one hand. “Should I call the police?”

Darcy threw a look over her shoulder. Chase stood, dejected, in the middle of the yard. “No, it’s fine. I think I got through to him this time.”

“ _ This _ time?” Cece echoed as she closed and locked the door behind them.

“Yeah, he showed up at my apartment the other day. Loki answered the door, so I thought that scared him off. Guess he needed some clarification.”

“Do you think he’s going to be a problem?” Cece sounded worried. “He was so pushy when you broke up with him, remember?”

  
Darcy rolled her eyes. “He’s harmless, Mom. Besides, I’m a freakin’  _ goddess _ . What’s he going to do?”


	8. To Valhalla With Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Look at me, another daily update! Just remember, I am going on vacation on the 17th and I will NOT be updating until the 24th. We have entirely too much to do around the house in that time.
> 
> Also hit me up at smortiz0310@gmail.com if you are interested in a physical book copy of A Profound Silence with a fancy cover and title page and everything.

Loki returned on Friday just as Darcy was locking up the shop. She jumped with a startled yelp when she turned around to find him standing behind her.

“ _ Jesus _ , Loki! You scared the shit out of me!” she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest.

He frowned. “Is everything okay? You seem… nervous.”

“I’m fine,” Darcy lied. “Just a long week. I’m glad it’s over.”

“Hmm,” Loki replied, looking unconvinced.

“Have you tried ice cream yet?” Darcy asked in a ham-handed attempt to deflect. “I would really love some ice cream right now.”

Loki sighed, but his expression cleared. “I have not tried ice cream yet,” he told her, and offered her his arm, as always. They made small talk as they walked down the street. There was an ice cream truck on the other side of the farmer’s market that lingered until around seven o’clock, and they had Darcy’s favorite flavor: caramel brownie chunk. She ordered a double dip bowl while Loki examined the list of flavors. He finally settled on strawberry cheesecake, which Darcy thought was strange, considering he’d never had cheesecake, to her knowledge, but seemed to enjoy it when he tried it for the first time.

“I did not expect it to be sweet,” Loki admitted after the first couple of bites.

“Why not?” Darcy asked, sucking on her spoon.

“The list said it had cheese in it. Fruit and cheese is a common after-dinner plate on Asgard. I assumed this would be similar.”

Darcy laughed. “No, babe. A cheesecake is made with cheese, but it’s also got a ton of sugar in it. Do you not like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Loki said defensively, and took another bite.

They took an uber to the beach so Darcy could wade along the highwater mark in her bare feet, flip-flops tucked in the back pocket of her capri pants. She had been too bloated the last week to fit into her normal wardrobe of shorts and cut-offs, so she’d had to buy a few things.

She  _ hoped _ it was just bloating, anyway.

“Have you seen Jane lately?” Darcy asked.

“Daily. We are working on complimentary projects.”

“I miss her. How’s she doing?”

“She is working a great deal. I am doing my best to keep her on the schedule you set down for her, but she is very… stubborn.”

“She is that. But I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on her. Thanks.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “She misses you, too.”

Darcy sighed. “I wish I could call her.”

“That is not possible as long as she works for SHIELD,” Loki warned.

“And she won’t leave as long as SHIELD has the Tesseract,” Darcy added bitterly.

“I think perhaps that Jane may be available sooner than you think. I don’t believe SHIELD will allow experimentation on the Tesseract for much longer.”

Darcy looked up sharply. “What does that mean?” she demanded.

Loki shrugged. He finished the last bite of his ice cream and made the trash vanish. “The director of SHIELD believes someone may attempt to steal the Tesseract soon. That’s why they wanted me to stay at the Triskelion and why they moved the Tesseract there.”

“But that doesn’t make  _ sense _ ,” Darcy protested. “It was under a freakin’  _ mountain _ . No one was going to get to it!”

“I was told that the security system at the Mountain is very old and easily overpowered by advanced technology,” Loki replied. “And it is primarily a scientific research facility. It has minimal security personnel and few stored weapons. It relies on the difficulty of unseen entry to protect from invasion.”

“But a giant glass skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan is so much safer,” Darcy said sarcastically.

“Perhaps not, but the fifteen levels underground are fairly secure,” Loki told her.

“Oh.” Darcy scraped the last drops of melted ice cream from her paper cup, licked her spoon, and handed everything over to Loki for disposal. “So Jane might be leaving SHIELD soon?”

“I imagine SHIELD would want to continue her employment, but I don’t think she’ll be interested if she no longer has access to the Tesseract.”

“Good,” Darcy said. “I wonder if she’ll need a laboratory assistant again.”

Loki smiled easily. Darcy liked seeing him like this; relaxed, almost at peace. She was almost afraid of what his reaction would be when she told him about…

Nope. Not thinking about it right now.

“It would be nice to go back,” Loki said softly, taking her hand in his. “To you and I, Jane and Erik, studying the stars. Looking for… whatever lies beyond.”

The idea  _ was _ ridiculously attractive. “I’d like that, too.”

“Someday,” Loki said with a sigh.

Darcy kicked at the shallow water swirling around her ankles. The sun was very close to the horizon, but it didn’t herald the end of the pervasive heat. It didn’t bother Darcy as much as it used to, but she knew that was because the more she learned to use her abilities, the less Human she became.

“We need to talk,” she blurted suddenly, before she lost courage, and cringed at the choice of words.

Loki, however, didn’t seem to be bothered by that particular phrase. “About what?”

Darcy stopped walking and tightened her hold on Loki’s hand. She took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

xXx

Time came to a standstill. For a long moment, Loki forgot to breathe. Darcy stood before him but all he could see was the small bundle in Eir’s arms, his desperate pleas mingling with the cries of the newborn as the healer carried the child away…

Darcy shook the hand she held in hers. “Loki. Did you hear me?”

“I… I did,” he said thickly. 

No. This couldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t survive a second time. They had to leave, now. They had to run as fast and as far as they could. He would not let Darcy suffer the loss that he had. He would never let anyone take her child away from her.

But he stopped. He didn’t run.

Darcy wasn’t him. This wasn’t Asgard. And no one expected Darcy to be anything or anyone but herself. So he took a deep breath, forced the panic response down, and met Darcy’s nervous gaze.

“What do you wish me to do for you, right now, at this moment?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked with a frown. “Are you--I mean, do you… Are you  _ okay _ with me being pregnant?”

He blinked at the question. It was not something he expected. What did it matter what  _ he _ thought or felt? It was  _ Darcy _ who would make the final decisions. “I am… at your service,” he answered at length.

She pulled her hand out of his and swatted his chest, hard. “You total  _ dumbass _ !” she yelled without any true heat behind it. “You  _ said _ I wouldn’t get pregnant.”

That was… not inaccurate. He tried to think back and remember if he had set the prevention spell each time they’d been intimate and he couldn’t be sure. “Yes,” he agreed. “I failed you. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Darcy shrugged. “What’s done is done. Not a whole lot we can do about it now.”

“Do… do you intend to keep the pregnancy?” Loki asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” she told him. “Death… um… Aunt D, she said that the pregnancy would last, like two  _ years _ , which fuck  _ that _ , and I have about five months to make a decision before the…  _ fetus _ … develops brain activity.”

“Yes, I suppose you would develop according to Vanir norms,” Loki agreed. “You spoke to Death about this?”

“She’s the only one I could think of that might know anything about this,” Darcy told him. “And she’s the only one of my dad’s siblings that I trust. Delirium isn’t bad, I guess, but she’s a bit loopy. Desire; definitely  _ not _ . Destiny is all old monkish and weird, and Despair creeps me out.”

He couldn’t argue with that assessment.

“Whatever you decide, I will support you,” Loki promised.

She bit her lip. “But what about what  _ you _ want? Do you  _ want _ to be a dad?”

He never intended to be a father, not after his chance to be a mother had been snatched away. But he could tell that Darcy was too delicate right now to tell her the truth. “I will do everything in my power to support and protect you, and this child, should you choose to keep it,” he told her, and to his relief she seemed satisfied with that.

“I’m terrified,” she said, leaning against him and wrapping her arm around his waist. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do next. I mean, I’m freaking  _ pregnant _ . I have a  _ person _ growing inside me.”

“Not a person, yet,” Loki corrected gently.

“Right, right,” Darcy agreed with a sigh. “But  _ still _ . What the fuck are we going to do?”

Loki had no answer for her.

xXx

Loki waited until Darcy was deep asleep before slipping away. It took him less than twenty minutes to get to Vanir, and he waited by the Way until his call was answered. A large rook dove from the twilight sky to land as two-legged Rook.

“What trouble are you in now?” she demanded, planting her spear in the spongy peat underfoot.

“Why do you always assume I am in trouble in some way?” Loki asked, pretending to be indignant.

“Because you always  _ are _ ,” Rook said bluntly.

Loki could not argue with that. “Darcy is pregnant,” he said with no other preamble.

Rook had the grace to look surprised for only a heartbeat. “I see you didn’t waste any time fathering an heir, did you? Are you planning on conquering Asgard and establishing your own dynasty?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,  _ meyla _ ,” Loki snapped. “This wasn’t intentional.”

Rook’s black eyes widened. “Draumr is going to  _ annihilate _ you,” she said. “The only daughter he ever had and you  _ accidentally _ impregnated her. And with her barely more than a child.”

“She doesn’t even know if she wishes to carry to term yet,” Loki told her.

“If you value your life, you’ll tell her to terminate,” Rook said with a snort. She shook her spear at him. “Or send her to the Coven. I’m sure the Greenmother would be overjoyed to have another grandchild.” 

“I am  _ not _ giving the Coven another child,” Loki snarled, lunging forward and grabbing the front of Rook’s shirt in his fist. “Swear to me you will not tell the Greenmother.  _ Swear _ it!”

Rook pushed him away easily. “Of course I swear,” she told him irritably. “You know my loyalty is to you before the Coven.”

Loki struggled to contain his anger but was eventually successful. “I know. I am sorry, little sister.”

She cuffed him on the shoulder. “You are wound tight these days, brother. I’d say you needed the attention of a woman, but clearly you already have it.”

Loki swatted her hand away. “Don’t be crude. You sound like Fandral.”

“I  _ am _ more beautiful than that lout, no matter what he says,” Rook declared.

“You are a vision in black,” Loki replied. A bubble of hysterical relief rose through his chest. At least Rook was on his side, whatever the future held.

They stood in companionable silence for a few seconds before Loki asked softly, “How is he? Sleip. Is he… is he healthy?”

“He grows like a weed and eats like a dragon,” Rook told him wryly. “We can barely keep him in leggings. He’s either grown or torn them. And he’s  _ just _ mastered voidfire. Someone has to follow him around everywhere ready to summon a rainburst.”

Loki smiled sadly. “He sounds like I was at that age.”

“He is  _ exactly _ like you at that age, and the very image of you, as well. It frightens me sometimes. I see him and think you’ve been experimenting with time magicks again.” Rook reached under her feathered cloak and pulled out a small golden orb. She offered it to him. “Here. This was done recently.”

He hesitated before reaching for the remember. It activated upon touching his skin, projecting a small image of a boy not yet to adolescence, rail-thin and snow-white, with ink-black hair and impossibly huge, pale eyes. He smiled, revealing gaps where his infant teeth had fallen out.

Loki closed his hand around the remember and the image disappeared. “You should not have brought me this,” he whispered.

“You should know what he looks like at least, brother.”

“NO!” Loki bellowed, flinging the orb at her feet. “I was forbidden from seeing him! He doesn’t even know my name! I am  _ nothing _ to him, neither father nor mother.”

“But surely that has changed now,” Rook knelt to retrieve the remember. “You owe no more loyalty to Asgard. Go to the Coven. Claim your son.”

“He is  _ not _ my son,” Loki hissed. “He shares my blood, nothing more. I have not seen him since his birth. If I were to stand before him and declare myself his mother, he would hate me, and I can’t… I cannot…” His anger ran out and his shoulder’s drooped. “I could not bear it,” he finished, his voice broken. “I could not bear losing him a second time.”

Rook sighed deeply and gently squeezed his shoulder. “I think you underestimate him, Loki. No one in all the Nine Realms has a softer heart nor a greater love than Sleipnir. He would adore you the moment he saw you, were you his parent or not.”

“He deserves better than me,” Loki said, and he had never spoken a truer word in his life.

“ _ You _ deserve better than to be separated from your first-born son,” Rook told him softly. “But that is neither here nor there, and cannot be resolved today. Right now you must see to your betrothed and  _ her _ child. And you’ll need to start planning.”

“For what?” Loki asked with a hopeless laugh.

“A wedding. Or a funeral,” Rook replied. “Depending on how Draumr reacts when he finds out.”

Loki rubbed his face with one hand. “Darcy wishes to tell him the day after tomorrow, when he dines with us at her quarters.”

She patted his shoulder. “I shall look for you the following day, and if you perish, I give you my word I will send you to Valhalla with honor.”

“You have to die in combat to go to Valhalla,” Loki reminded her.

“Oh, you will,” Rook said. “You will. Good luck, brother.” She turned and took to the sky, her smaller, black form disappearing quickly into the night sky.

Loki watched her until he could no longer see her, and then heaved a deep sigh. 

  
“ _ Faen. _ ”


	9. A Duel of Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all. Hit me up at smortiz0310@gmail.com or on Insta @sinead_smith_3 if you wanna say hi, chat, or if you have questions about the upcoming book version of A Profound Silence.

Darcy wasn’t looking forward to Sunday. She very much did  _ not _ want to tell her father that she was pregnant by the boyfriend that her father loathed with a passion. Both Dream and Loki had told her the story of the challenge between them, but only the most basic facts. Darcy still wasn’t sure what had happened to cause the animosity.

As it turned out, she didn’t get the chance to tell her father anything.

Dream arrived early, while Darcy, Daniel, and Loki were still preparing the meal. Daniel still did not suspect anything, not even when Darcy suggested they try a new vegetarian recipe, since she was having a mild meat aversion due to morning sickness.

After giving Loki a frigid death-glare, Dream went to greet Darcy, offering her his hand in lieu of a hug. Darcy took his hand and rose on her tip-toes to place a light kiss on his cheek. His hand tightened on hers and the air thickened with the smell of ozone.

“ **Daughter. You are with child** .” Dream’s voice sounded like distant thunder from an oncoming storm. Darcy  _ knew _ that Dream would never intentionally harm her, but she couldn’t stop the panic response that forced her to snatch her hand away and duck behind Loki for protection.

“Um… yes?” she replied, uncertain as to Dream’s next move.

Despite the bright sun outside, the room grew shadowed as the temperature plummeted. “ **Grindalokki. This is your doing** .”

“I am the child’s father, yes,” Loki said evenly.

“ **She is barely more than a child herself** ,” Dream rumbled. “ **How dare you treat her this way** .”

“It was not our intention to conceive a child,” Loki told him. “If Darcy so chooses, we will terminate the pregnancy. If she wishes to keep the child, I will do everything in my power to provide for her and our child.”

“ **You say this, but you could not care for your first-born** ,” Dream accused. “ **What guarantee can you give that this one will be different?** ”

Loki surprised Darcy by lunging towards Dream, as if he could actually do something to hurt him. Darcy caught Loki’s arm and, to her continued surprise, was able to hold him back. Daniel jumped in front of Dream, still holding a kitchen knife in his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Daniel warned. “I actually kind of like you, and I know Darcy would be  _ very _ upset if Dad wiped you out of existence.”

“What the hell, Daniel?” Darcy yelled at her brother. “Loki, calm down. Getting yourself hurt is not going to help anything.” Loki let himself be drawn away, his eyes never leaving Dream while a snarl bared his teeth. “We are going to talk later,” Darcy told him firmly. “But right now, I need you to take a walk, okay?”

“Fine,” Loki said tersely, his voice sounding strangled. He spun on his heel and slammed the door on his way out of the apartment.

Darcy turned to face Dream and crossed her arms. “You don’t have the right to react like that,” she said.

The shadows and pressure eased slightly. “ **You are my daughter** ,” Dream told her. “ **It is my duty to protect you.** ”

“I understand and appreciate that, but you have been in my life for four months now. I grew up without a father. I am, for all intents and purposes, an adult. I know that the Vanir mature a lot slowly, but I was raised as a Human, and I matured as a Human. I am capable of making my own decisions.”

Darcy paused to press one hand to her stomach. “I have not decided yet whether I want to keep this or not, but I was hoping that the two of you would support me in whatever I plan on doing.”

Daniel put the knife onto the table and pulled Darcy into a firm hug. “Look, whatever you need, I’m here for you, Darcy. No matter what. You’re my sister, and nothing will change that, even your terrible taste in men.”

Darcy slapped Daniel’s back but remained in his embrace. “Thanks, Daniel.” When they parted, she turned to Dream. “I  _ want _ you to be in my life. I  _ want _ to have a dad. I’ve  _ always _ wanted to have a dad. But I’m also not going to let you try to swoop in here after twenty-one years and boss me around.”

Dream was silent for a very long time. His expression, as always, was impossible to read, but his eyes turned from red-orange to yellow to silver. “ **I understand,** ” he said at length. “ **I… I failed my first child. I chose not to be involved with his life, and this brought us both pain. I had hoped to not repeat this mistake, but I see I have gone too far.** ”

He extended a salt-white hand again, and Darcy took it without hesitation. “ **Allow me to explain why I do not trust the Grindalokki. Once I have told this story, I will never speak of this again, and I will support you in every way I can.** ”

“I’m listening,” Darcy replied.

Dream sighed. “ **Some time ago, well before you were born, the Grindalokki set out to find me and challenge me. I am not just the Lord of Dreams, but also the Lord of Stories, and he wished to take that title from me.** ”

Darcy frowned. “That doesn’t sound… wise.”

“ **He was young, and full of a fool’s confidence. When he found me, he challenged me to a duel of tales. We would each tell three stories, and an impartial judge would declare the winner.** ”

“Okay, but what happened?”

“ **He is a very skilled story-weaver, greater than any mortal I have ever known. But I am the Lord of Stories, and I will not be defeated in my own realm. I was judged the victor for the first two tales. But the third… the Grindalokki spun a tale about me. About me and Freyja. He knew things he should not have known, things that passed only between us.** ”

Darcy frowned. “How could he have known those things?”

“ **I do not know. When I demanded to know this, he refused to tell me. The judge declared the Grindalokki the victor of the challenge. Then he told me he had no desire for my title after all. He wanted a skellig of his own, formed from his own memories. I had no choice but to agree, as he had won fairly.** ”

Darcy rubbed her forehead. “So you’re  _ not _ angry because he won, you’re angry at him because he knew things about you and Freyja that were supposed to be a secret?”

Dream looked disgruntled for a few seconds. “ **Yes** ,” he finally admitted.

“Okay,” Darcy said simply. “You two wait here. I’m going to talk to Loki.” 

xXx

How dare he? How  _ dare _ he? Loki seethed silently as he paced up and down the alley behind Darcy’s apartment. He did not wish to go far, in case she needed him, but he was full of restive energy from his fury and he could not remain still.

How  _ dare _ Draumr bring Sleipnir into this? Loki had had no choice in that matter. He had to fight tooth and nail to keep Odin from ordering the pregnancy terminated, and it had only been on the condition the child was given to the Greencoven that the Allfather finally relented. He had been so young, so unprepared, and completely incapable of standing up to his adopted father.

That Draumr would accuse him of being an unfit parent on that basis was enraging, and his first reaction was to attack. Not that he would have caused Draumr any serious injury. He did not carry a weapon capable of harming an Eternal. Few of those existed and fewer still were accessible to mortals.

As he paced, vainly trying to calm himself down, he sensed a presence approaching and paused. A very shiny, deep blue car pulled into the alley and came to a stop. The driver’s door opened, and an unfortunately familiar Human stepped out.

Charles Chase Barrett IV stood with the door open for a few heartbeats, squinting against the bright sun at Loki. “You in the doghouse?” he called.

Loki had no idea what that phrase meant and declined to answer, waiting silently to see what the Human intended to do. Barrett bent to reach inside the car and re-emerged with an armful of colorful roses. 

“Chicks like flowers, you know,” Barrett said as he sauntered over. “You can pretty much act however you want as long as you get them a shit ton of flowers later.

“Darcy does not believe that cut flowers are an appropriate gesture of affection,” Loki growled. “She thinks it is distasteful to offer the mutilated reproductive organs of a living thing as a gift.”

Barrett turned a grayish color and looked down at the bouquet in his hands. “What’s your problem, man?” he demanded aggressively. “That’s a fucking twisted thing to say.”

“If you intend to give those to Darcy, I suggest you find a better time,” Loki warned him.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll talk to Darcy and let  _ her _ tell me what she wants,” Barrett said dismissively, moving to brush past Loki.

Loki grabbed Barrett’s upper arm and stopped him in his tracks, almost pulling him up off his feet. “Go,” he snarled in the Human’s face. “ _ Now. _ Before you lose the ability to leave at all.”

Barrett finally realized the danger he was in and beat a hasty retreat, his car squealing as he sped away. Loki clenched his shaking hands into fists and closed his eyes, struggling to calm his breathing. He had not lost control of his emotions in a  _ very _ long time, and this was no time to start.

The apartment door opened and slammed closed. He looked up to see Darcy descending the stairs. She looked… radiant. As a goddess should. She wore a lavender-colored sleeveless tunic under a sheer white vest and dark green leggings that ended at mid-calf. Her feet were bare, and she didn’t venture onto the heat-soaked ground of the alley.

“Hey,” she called softly. “You okay?”

“I am…” he briefly considered lying to her, but then admitted, “No. I am not.”

She gestured for him to join her on the bottom step. When he reached her, she pulled him into an embrace. “Whatever it is that you’re going through, we’ll do it together, okay?” she said softly.

Loki clung to her like a lifeline, as if she was all that separated him from certain doom. In a way, she was. It still amazed him that she could be dealing with everything that she was and still be concerned for his welfare.

She pulled away from him but took his hands. “Okay. So. Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you wish to know?” he asked, resigned.

Darcy took a deep breath. “Do you, or  _ did _ you, have another kid?”

“Yes.”

Her expression was difficult to read. “What happened?”

“I spent most of my childhood at the Greencoven,” Loki began. “The Greencoven only accepts women for training, so I took a female form.” He paused for a moment. “I am a sha--”

“Shapeshifter, I know,” Darcy interrupted, squeezing his hands. “Go on.”

Loki frowned but didn’t comment. Darcy was smart enough to put the pieces together. “As part of our training, we often served as healers for the Vanir people. During a mission to an isolated village, I met a young warrior named Svaðilfari.”

It was hard to speak of this, but he forced himself to. Darcy deserved to know the truth. “We were each other’s first… everything. I stayed with him for over three years before returning to the Coven. I was still in a female form, and…”

“You were pregnant,” Darcy finished for him. “Oh, my god, Loki. What happened?”

Loki swallowed against a tight throat. “Odin discovered my… condition and demanded my return to Asgard. When the child was born, Odin sent him back to the Greencoven to be raised there. I… I have not seen him since.”

A change immediately came over Darcy. The shade seemed to thicken around her, bending toward her like light to a black hole. Her eyes darkened, hollowed, lit by bright points of blood-red stars. Voidflame wreathed her head like a crown, and her skin temperature plummeted.

“ **He. Did.** **_What_ ** **?** ” she demanded in a voice that shook the ground under their feet.

Loki found himself, just for a moment, to be completely terrified. Never in his wildest imagination had he ever seen Darcy wielding this much power. If she lost control, if her focus wavered for even a second, she could level the entire city.

“I am fine, Darcy,” Loki tried to reassure her. “I am safe. There is no threat right now. Listen to my voice. Release your power.”

“ **Odin** **_took_ ** **your child?** ” Darcy was not in the mood to be placated. She released Loki’s hands, clenching her fists. “ **He** **_took_ ** **your child from you?** ”

The door to the apartment burst open and Daniel lunged out, coming to a rapid halt at the sight of Darcy. “Oh  _ shit _ ,” he gasped, and ducked back into the residence, only to re-emerge with Draumr in tow.

“ **I’ll kill him** ,” Darcy thundered. “ **I’ll rip his stupid fucking head off** .”

“That will solve nothing, Darcy,” Loki said gently, holding his hands out towards her. “Odin has no power over me anymore. We can go to the Greencoven, you and I. We can go see Sleipnir. He is safe, I promise you.”

“ **Daughter,** ” Draumr said in a voice so gentle that Loki felt his own muscles relax, his heart rate slowing. “ **You have put your child at risk. You have put your beloved at risk.** ” He reached Darcy and put his hands on her shoulders. “ **Calm yourself. Release this anger. Breathe** .”

Darcy turned toward her father, and now that he could think clearly, Loki thought that she was the most beautiful thing in all the universe. Nothing could compare to her glory. 

“ **I… I want to hurt him** ,” Darcy told her father, her voice wavering. “ **I want to hurt Odin for what he did to Loki** .”

“ **I understand. But it is not your place to do so. You are the Goddess of Secrets, not vengeance. Odin will pay for his sins, I assure you. But not today, and not to you.** ”

The voidfire was the first to fade away, then the shadows. Finally, Darcy’s eyes returned to normal. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice returning to normal. “I don’t know what just happened. I was just so…  _ angry _ .”

“ **And that anger allowed you access to your full divinity,** ” Draumr told her. “ **One day soon you will be able to control it fully.** ”

Darcy turned back to Loki and all but flung herself into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you. We’re gonna get your son back, I promise.”

He should have warned her about making promises she couldn’t keep, but he never got the chance. A white car pulled into the alley, red and blue lights flashing from the roof. A loud siren whooped briefly before two uniformed men stepped out of the vehicle. Both were armed.

“Darcy Lewis?” the closer man called, one hand on his weapon.

Darcy’s head snapped up, her eyes darkening again. “What?” she growled threateningly.

The officer gestured toward Darcy. “Miss Lewis, please step away from the gentleman and walk towards me.”

Darcy stepped away from Loki and raised her hands. “I won’t let you hurt him,” she snarled, and summoned voidfire. It came in a flood, like water breaking through a dam, and when she flung it at the car, it devoured the vehicle in seconds.

“What the  _ fuck _ !” screamed the second officer. He grabbed the communication device on his shoulder. “This is unit 216, we have a 10-616! Repeat, 10-616! Very hostile! Get me a containment team!”

Daniel stepped in front of Darcy, shoving her back with one hand and waving his another at the two officers. They wilted to the ground, asleep before they reached the concrete.

“Well,  _ that’s _ not good,” Daniel said casually. He turned to look at the others. “We should probably leave.”

“How the  _ fuck _ did they know I was here?” Darcy demanded, shaking the last sparks of voidfire from her fingers. Loki grabbed her arm fully.

“That may be my doing,” he said. “Barrett came here while you were still speaking with your father and brother and I threatened him. He may have summoned the authorities.”

“I’m gonna fucking  _ kill _ him,” Darcy growled.

“Later,” Loki said, half promise. “We need to leave,  _ now _ .”

“And go where?” Darcy demanded. “ _ Fuck. _ SHIELD is probably gonna find out about this.”

“It is likely,” he agreed. “We could return to the Waystation.”

Darcy’s expression hardened. “No. Let’s go to the Triskelion. Might as well get this over with.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to live the rest of my life hiding from SHIELD.”

“We could always leave Midgarðr,” Loki offered.

She gave him a quelling look before turning to her father. “We’ll talk about this later,” and it almost sounded like a threat.

Draumr inclined his head. “ **Whenever you are ready, Daughter.** ” He and Daniel vanished back into the Dreaming, leaving Darcy with Loki. She reached out and took his hand.

“We’re in this together, remember?” she told him.

“Yes, I do,” Loki told her.

She offered him a crooked smile. “Hey, Loki, you know what?”

He shook his head, matching her smile. Her’s only grew.

“I love you.”


	10. Invasion of the Darcy Snatchers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. This will be the last update until the 24th. We are trying to get a lot done during our "staycation" and I don't know if I will have time to write. Also I do not own a desktop or laptop and I don't like writing on my wife's tablet. But if you want to get in touch with me during my mini hiatus, you can hit me up at smortiz0310@gmail.com or on Insta @sinead_smith_3.
> 
> I am also looking for more people interested in ordering a physical book copy of A Profound Silence. I have nine, and I would like 1, but ideally 6 more orders. I will also (hopefully) be printing A Bittersweet Dream. And if there is enough interest, I might even do The Yggdrasil Chronicles as well.

The first thing Darcy noticed as they approached the front door of the Triskelion was that security had doubled, possibly even tripled. Not all of it was obvious, though. She picked up on the extra undercover guards posing as power line workers and the ones pretending to repair a strategically leaking water main, but Loki had to point out the ones down the street in the battered newspaper delivery van.

“Is this because they think someone is trying to steal the Tesseract?” Darcy asked in a low voice. “Who do they think is going to steal it?”

“Who else?” Loki replied. “Aliens.”

“Wait,  _ seriously _ ?” she demanded, but they were already through the doors at the metal detectors. Loki declined to answer as he pressed his badge to the reader and pointed at Darcy.

“She is my guest,” he told the guard. The guard waved Darcy through the detector with a calculated air of boredom and, when Darcy passed through uneventfully, handed her a bright orange visitor’s badge. Darcy had to sign a log, which she did under the name “Darcy Gersemi.” She no longer had any desire to carry the name “Lewis,” but she’d been “Darcy” all her life and she wasn’t ready to give that up.

“So. Where to first?” Darcy asked, pinning the badge to the front of her blouse. Loki had provided her with appropriate clothing, as her beach-style wardrobe was not appropriate for the North American SHIELD headquarters. She wore an eggplant-purple silk button-up blouse, dark gray pinstripe trousers, black flats, and soft, silvery cardigan duster that swished pleasingly around her knees. Darcy had no idea where Loki had gotten the clothing, or how he managed to get her size precisely right, and she wasn’t going to ask.

“I thought you might like to see Jane,” Loki told her.

Darcy refrained from squealing with excitement but still clapped her hands together and wiggled. “Yes!”

They had the elevator to themselves, thankfully, and Loki had to flash his badge again before pushing a button. A robotic voice from overhead said, “Occupant unauthorized to access this level.” Loki replied in a bored tone, “Override. Authorization Odinson, Loki.” 

“Override accepted,” the elevator said, and began moving downward.

“What’s your clearance level these days?” Darcy asked. Loki checked his badge with a frowen.

“Eight.”

“Nice.”

The sublevel was frigid, and Darcy was glad for her sweater as they paced down the sterile, utilitarian corridor to the metal door that read “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”

“So they finally managed to turn Jane into a mole person,” Darcy observed. “How deep are we?”

“About four kilometers underground,” Loki replied, and unlocked the door with his badge. The door opened on its own, and Darcy stepped into the laboratory.

The setup was almost, but not quite, exactly like it had been at Cheyenne Mountain. The differences were trivial and Darcy ignored them. Jane was nowhere to be seen. It was Elsie who noticed them first.

“Mr Odinson, Miss Lewis!” she exclaimed, nearly dropping her tablet in surprise. “You’re back!”

“Just Darcy,” Darcy corrected with a grimace. “I’m not a Lewis. Never was.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Elsie said quickly. “Well, welcome back. Are you working with us again?”

“No, just visiting. Is Jane here?”

As if summoned by her name, Jane appeared from behind the server stacks, a notebook in one hand and a pen in her mouth. She dropped the pen into her free hand. “ _ Darcy _ ?!”

“Jane!” Darcy squealed, spreading her arms. Jane sprinted across the lab and all but flung herself into Darcy’s arms, hugging her tight.

“Oh, my god, you’re okay!” Jane babbled. “I was so worried about you! You just  _ vanished _ and then Loki came back and he said you were okay, but he wouldn’t tell us where you were and it’s been  _ months _ and I’ve missed you  _ so much _ !”

“Awww, Janey, I missed you too,” Darcy said, patting Jane’s back. “But I’m really okay. Like,  _ really _ okay.”

Jane pulled back enough to study Darcy’s face with a frown. “You are?” she asked. “Because with everything that happened with Gertrude…?”

Darcy waved one hand. “All in the past. Water under the bridge. Moot point. Totally over it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jane said, clearly unconvinced. “Sounds like it.” She whirled suddenly on Loki. “And you! What took you so damn long to bring her back?”

“I didn’t want to come back,” Darcy told Jane softly. “I needed time to process… well, everything.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “Okay. Well, um, welcome back?”

“I’m not here permanently,” Darcy explained apologetically. “I kinda sorta obliterated a police car, so we decided to get a head of the game and report it to Coulson directly.”

“You…  _ obliterated _ … a police car,” Jane echoed slowly.

“Yeah. So, superpowers? I definitely have them.” Darcy raised her hand and summoned voidfire, allowing it to lick around her fingertips. “I can do this, among other things.”

“Oh, wow, Darcy, that’s beautiful!” Jane’s eyes glittered with SCIENCE! and Darcy made the voidfire disappear.

“Uh-uh, no ma’am,” Darcy said, hiding her hands behind her back. “I am not a science experiment, Doctor Obsessive Star Science. You have plenty to play with already.”

“I could just run a few tests,” Jane wheedled, and sighed at Darcy’s expression. “Fine. Can you at least tell me  _ how _ you got superpowers? Are you a mutant?”

“Um… no,” Darcy said slowly. She glanced up at Loki, who only shrugged. “Okay. Jane, I’m going to tell you first because you’re like my best friend and you deserve to know.”

“Know what?” Jane demanded, reaching out and grabbing Darcy’s arm. “What is it?”

“I’m… not Human,” Darcy admitted. “I mean, I  _ thought _ I was one and I was raised as if I was, but I’m  _ not _ and I wasn’t even born on Earth, I was just brought here by my… um… well, my dad’s sibling--they’re kinda non-binary so… Anyway, yeah. Not Human.”

Jane blinked three times in quick succession. “You met your  _ dad _ ?” she gasped.

Darcy laughed. If that was what Jane had gotten from her broken explanation, then she knew they were going to be alright. “Yeah. I did. And my older brother. They’re pretty great, for the most part. Dad’s a little overbearing but that’s because he’s trying to protect me; you know, complex from losing me at birth, but for the most part pretty cool.”

“And your mom?” Jane asked hesitantly.

“Uh, no. She, uh, she died. When I was born. Complications.”

“Oh, Darcy, I’m so sorry,” Jane said, squeezing Darcy’s arm.

Darcy shrugged. “It’s fine. I already have a mom. Cece. She’ll always be ‘mom’ to me.”

The door to the lab beeped and then slid open. Everyone turned to see who it was. Clint stopped dead in the doorway, eyes fixed on Darcy. He transferred his hard gaze onto Loki and pointed at the taller man. “You have some explaining to do,” he said firmly, and then prowled towards Darcy.

Before she had a chance to protest, he caught her up in a hug that lifted her off her feet. “Boy am I glad to see you, kiddo.”

“Hi, Clint,” Darcy said with a laugh, hugging him back. Clint set her down on her feet and studied her face.

“You been okay?” he asked. “You were safe?”

“Very safe,” Darcy confirmed. “Just figuring some things out.”

“I feel ya,” Clint replied. “Cheese is gonna be so happy to see you. He’s been worried sick.”

“Coulson? Really? I’d think he’d be furious.”

“Oh, he is that, too. But mostly worried. He likes you, you know.”

“Sure doesn’t act like it,” Darcy muttered. Movement in the still-open doorway caught her eyes. Natalie Rushman leaned around the doorframe.

“Barton!” she barked. “Fury wants us in briefing. Odinson, you too.” She paused when she caught sight of Darcy. “Lewis, you might as well come along, too. Where the hell have you been?”

“Vacation,” Darcy retorted. “And my name’s not Lewis anymore.”

“Fine, whatever. Chop chop.” She disappeared down the corridor.

“Who is Fury, and what is Natalie doing down here?” Darcy asked Loki.

“Director Fury,” Loki replied. “And Natalie… isn’t Natalie. She is actually Natasha Romanov, and she is a SHIELD agent.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Son of a  _ bitch _ .”

xXx

The briefing did not go at all like Darcy expected, not that she expected much. Director Fury turned out to be an imposing black man in his mid-fifties, wearing a black leather duster that only he and Keanu Reeves could have pulled off. He also only had one eye.

The briefing consisted of the Director, Coulson, Clint, Loki,  _ Natasha _ , a gray-haired man with electric blue eyes that Darcy didn’t recognize, and  _ Steve _ of all people. Steve was the only person who looked happy to see her.

“Hey, Darcy,” He greeted, offering his hand. “It’s good to see you. I was hoping you’d be back someday.”

“Hi!” Darcy replied, shaking his hand firmly. “It’s good to see you, too. How’ve you been?”

Steve glanced sidelong at Fury. “Not as busy as I’d like to be,” he admitted.

“So this is  _ the _ Darcy Lewis?” Fury asked, glaring at Darcy with his one good eye. “You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble, young lady.”

“My  _ name _ is Darcy Gersemi,” Darcy announced loudly. “‘Lewis’ is the name of the woman who took me from my family and terrorized me.”

“We’ll update your file,” Fury said dryly. “Can someone explain why she’s here? I don’t recall adding her to the clearance list.”

“Darcy has perfect recall,” Clint said from where he was slouched in his chair. Natasha sat next to him, one leg propped on his lap. They seemed  _ very _ friendly. “She’s got every bit of data Foster has extracted from the Tesseract stored in her head.”

All eyes turned to Darcy and she blushed.

“Is that true?” Coulson demanded.

“Uh… yeah,” Darcy admitted. “I don’t  _ understand _ all of it. But it’s all up there.”

The blue-eyed man turned to Fury. “She’s going to need to undergo the procedure, then,” he said in a strong accent that was vaguely reminiscent of Australia.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Darcy said, putting her hands up. “What procedure? And  _ why _ do I need it?”

“It’s a simple restructuring of your brain’s electromagnetic field to make you resistant to biodigital interrogation techniques,” the stranger explained.

“That does  _ not _ sound simple,” Darcy protested.

“Darcy has already proven herself immune to mind-altering fields,” Loki said. “She has been able to see through my veils from the beginning.”

“Magic is one thing, your Highness,” the man replied snarkily. “The Supreme Intelligence is an organic biodigital entity that can directly interface with the brain of over a thousand species. That’s two completely different things.”

“I doubt that the Supreme Intelligence can interface with Darcy’s species,” Loki said dryly. 

“What do you mean, ‘species’?” Coulson demanded.

Darcy waved. “Hi. Alien. Go figure.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone absorbed that. Then Clint spoke up. “We’ve all had the procedure done, kid. It doesn’t hurt. No side effects. And it’s supposed to be completely reversible.”

“Supposed to be?” Darcy echoed archly.

“We haven’t tried reversing it yet,” the blue-eyed man admitted.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Darcy asked, pointing at him.

He met her gaze steadily. “My name’s Talos. I’m the leader of the Skrull Remnant. The Kree hunted my people almost to extinction, but Fury and another Human saved us, so I’m here to pay that debt. Trust me or not, but I’m not your enemy.”

Darcy trusted him. Somehow she knew he wasn’t lying. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was the Goddess of Secrets. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it, then.”

Fury gestured impatiently. “Talos, you get Ms.  _ Gersemi _ here ready for the procedure and we’ll catch you up later.”

“This way, Miss,” Talos said, holding out his hand toward the door. Darcy looked up at Loki again. 

“Clint is right,” he assured her. “It doesn’t hurt. You’ll just feel dizzy for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

“I’ll be here,” he promised.

Darcy followed Talos to the medical level of the building, and then to a small, repurposed MRI room. She hesitated at the doorway. “Um… Talos?”

“Hmm?” he replied as he powered up the machine in the middle of the room.

“Is… uh… is this procedure dangerous to… um, fetuses?”

Talos looked up sharply. “You’re pregnant?” he demanded.

“Yeah. About four weeks.”

He immediately switched the device off. “We haven’t tested it enough to know if it’s harmful to unborn children,” he admitted. “We tested it on adult males before bringing it here to Earth. I’m not willing to take the chance it’ll cause an involuntary miscarriage.”

Darcy pressed her hands to her stomach. At this point the fetus was nothing more than a rapidly-dividing clump of stem cells, just barely big enough to be seen with the naked eye. It had no brain, no heart, and no life outside what Darcy provided. She still hadn’t decided if she planned on keeping the pregnancy or not, but she knew she wasn’t ready to decide now.

“I’ll tell Fury that you’ll need to be under guard at all times,” Talos said. “We can’t take the risk of the Kree getting their hands on you.”

“Trust me, Loki’s not going to let me out of his sight,” Darcy told him dryly.

Talos eyed her. “He’s the father, isn’t he?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Talos smiled faintly. “I imagine he won’t.”

“Look, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to go back to Jane’s lab. Is that safe enough for the time being?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. The lab’s got limited access, so you’ll be safe. I’ll walk you down myself.”

Talos didn’t speak again until they got into an elevator. “So. Where are you from?” he asked.

“My mother was Vanir,” Darcy said. “From Vanaheimr. My dad is… um… he’s complicated.”

Talos nodded. “Ah. Mixed species. Those can get messy.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, and left it at that.

They exited the elevator into the corridor outside Jane’s lab when Talos froze in midstep, putting one arm out to prevent Darcy from continuing on.

“What is it?” Darcy demanded.

Talos sniffed the air, eyes darting back and forth. “Something’s wrong,” he growled. A door ahead of them opened, and Elsie stepped into the corridor, walking towards them.

“It’s just Elsie,” Darcy said. “She’s Jane's lab tech.”

“No, she’s not,” Talos snarled, and  _ changed. _ The Human facade melted away, revealing his true form. Darcy had half a moment to take in the scaly, green skin, pointed ears, and coal-black eyes before Elsie got close enough to pull a strange-looking gun from behind her back

“Shame we have to keep you alive,” she sneered at Talos, and fired twice.

Darcy was so shocked that she wasn’t dead that it took her a few seconds longer than Talos to pass out.

xXx

Unlike she usually did, Darcy woke slowly. She felt heavy and groggy, and her hearing returned before she came fully awake.

“Why isn’t this working?” demanded an unfamiliar male voice.

“The interface isn’t compatible with his brain wave format.”

“That’s impossible! This was  _ designed _ to interrogate the Skrulls.”

“I  _ know _ that. But it’s still not working!”

“What about the Terran? Is she damaged?”

“I was careful,” snapped the second voice,  _ Elsie’s _ voice. “She’s unharmed.”

“And you’re sure she has what we need?”

“She’s a perfect eidetic. She remembers everything she has seen in the laboratory.”

“Fine. Connect her to the Supreme Intelligence and see what we can get out of her.”

Darcy found herself roughly lifted from the hard ground and made to kneel in a puddle of glassy, silver ferrofluid. She blinked dazedly around. Talos lay on the floor close by, still in his native form. Three people stood around her; Elsie, a tall humanoid male with brown hair and gold eyes, and a second male with black, curly hair and deep, sapphire-blue skin.

Thin threads began to creep up her body from the pool below, sinking into her exposed skin. “What… what is this?” she asked thickly, and wondered if she had been drugged. The threads continued to envelop her until they reached her head, burrowing into her temples. The world fuzzed out for a second, like static, and resolved into a familiar place.

Darcy sat on the couch in the living room of the house in Huntington beach, facing the windows overlooking the back deck. Cece sat in the armchair opposite her. “Hi, Didi,” her foster mother said kindly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Darcy replied, looking around. This wasn’t real. It looked real; even felt real, but she knew in her gut that none of it was real. Something was very, very wrong.

“That’s good,” Cece said soothingly. She opened the legal pad on her lap and clicked her pen. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to the last few months?”


	11. I Do Believe In Fairies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeey guys! Surprise! It's your update, one day early! 
> 
> Also according to my design team (holy heck I have a design team!) We might be ready to print in about 8 or 9 days. So if you are interested in a copy of the book, please let me know at smortiz0310@gmail.com and let me know if you would rather make a payment via Zelle, Venmo, or Paypal. The more books I print, the more cost effective the whole process is. Final price is going to be $35, tax and shipping included. Once I receive the books, I will reach out to everyone individually to get mailing addresses. I live in Texas, USA, so the furthest I can ship is Europe, unless you are willing to cover shipping, in which case, I will send anywhere in the world!

“This is wrong,” Darcy said thickly, as if the words didn’t want to claw their way up her throat. Cece tilted her head, her expression kind and open.

“What’s wrong, Dee?”

Darcy waved her hand around the room. “This. All of this. It’s wrong.”

Cece shook her long box braids over her shoulder. “Darcy, sweetie, you’ve had a really hard few months. That’s why we’re talking. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Darcy squinted at Cece. “You’re… my… foster mom,” she said with difficulty. “You… can’t be… my… therapist. Conflict of… interest.”

Cece glitched.

It happened so quickly Darcy wasn’t sure she had seen it. For a microsecond Cece had disappeared and in her place was a many-limbed shapeless green monster. Then her smiling foster mother was back.

Cece set her notepad aside. “I’m not talking to you as a therapist, Darcy-Dee,” she said, her beatific smile never wavering. “I’m here as your mother. Just talk to me. Let me help you feel better.”

The problem was, Cece hadn’t called her “Darcy-Dee” since she was fourteen.

Darcy tried to think quickly. She most likely wasn’t conscious, which means she was technically  _ dreaming _ , and if she was dreaming, then…

“Dad!” Darcy screamed as loud as she could. “Morpheus! Draumr! Lord of Dreams!”

“What are you doing?” Cece demanded sharply, rising to her feet. “Stop that!”

“ _ Dad _ !” Darcy yelled. “Dad,  _ help! _ ”

Dream appeared before she was done. He wore a ratty black t-shirt and black jeans, making him look little more than a teenager. His cloak was thrown back, his helm in one hand and his bag of sand in the other.

“ **What is it, Daughter** ?” Dream asked, putting himself between Cece and Darcy. “ **What is the meaning of this** ?”

“Get me out of here, please!” Darcy begged. Dream swirled his cloak around her, and then they were… Elsewhere.

“ **How did you come to be captive of the Supreme Intelligence** ?” Dream asked her, keeping her close to him, his cloak wrapped around them both.

“They’re trying to steal the Tesseract,” Darcy explained. “I guess they thought I knew something that would help them.”

“ **The Tesseract** ?” Dream asked sharply. The normally golden stars in his eyes flashed red-orange. “ **That is troubling. You must prevent them, Daughter.** ”

“Why can’t you?” Darcy asked, leaning against her father’s thin but solid frame. He smelt like lightning and petrichor. Darcy had never considered those to be comforting smells until now. 

“ **I am an Eternal, my Daughter. I cannot interfere in the lives of mortals outside my domain** .”

“Bullshit!” Darcy exclaimed, pushing away from him. “That’s a bullshit excuse! My whole  _ planet _ might be in danger and you’re telling me you don’t want to do anything about it!?”

“ **I** **_cannot_ ** _ , _ ” Dream repeated. “ **But you can** .”

Darcy blinked a few times. “How?” she asked simply.

Dream cradled Darcy’s head in his cool, soft hands. “ **I intended to wait to show you this aspect of your power** ,” he told her gravely. “ **But it appears you need this sooner** .”

Part of Darcy’s brain blossomed open like a flower and she had a shining moment of clarity before a migraine split her head in two.

“ **The pain will pass** ,” Dream assured her. “ **When it does, you will know what to do** .”

“ _ Why _ does it hurt?” Darcy moaned, clutching at her temples as if she could force the two halves of her skull back together.

“ **You’ve spent your life as a Human. Part of you still believes you are** .” Dream reached up to tap the glasses perched on her nose. “ **That is why you still need these** .”

Darcy squinted at him. “Wait, you mean that if I believe I don’t need them, I  _ won’t _ ?”

Dream nodded. Darcy snatched the glasses off and flung them as far as she could. “Fuck you!” she yelled after them. The pain was indeed beginning to recede, leaving a golden nugget of information behind. “I think I’m ready to go back,” she said.

“ **Be careful** ,” Dream instructed. “ **I would be very… upset… if you were hurt** .”

Darcy hugged him, quickly and tightly. “Thanks, Dad.”

She blinked.

Elsie stood over her, anger twisting her face. “I  _ don’t _ understand why it’s not working.”

“Never mind,” snapped the tall man with golden eyes. “We’ll take her to the  _ Dread Nocturne _ and try again. The connection to the Supreme Intelligence is stronger there.”

“Fine, but it’s  _ not _ the interface that’s not working!” Elsie insisted.

“ _ Yes, _ El-Syr,” The golden-eyed man snapped. “Get us off this shithole planet.”

Elsie, or El-Syr, sent one last glare at him and hurried out of the room. The golden-eyed man knelt in front of Darcy, who stared down her nose at him.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked softly, meeting her gaze unblinkingly.

“I know I don’t care,” Darcy retorted.

“I am Yon-Rogg, commander of the Accusers of Hala,” The man told her, as if they were at a dinner party and he was introducing himself before he asked her dance. “I am here for the Core, and if you do not assist me in finding it, many of your people will die.”

“What’s stopping you from killing people  _ after _ you get it?” Darcy demanded.

Yon-Rogg smiled faintly. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then you can shove it,” Darcy replied.

Yon-Rogg stood and turned to the third invader, who Darcy had almost forgotten about. “Secure her and the Skrull. We need them both alive.”

The blue-skinned man grunted and grabbed Darcy by the upper arm. He dragged her roughly to her feet. “Don’t struggle,” he told her in heavily-accented English. “You’ll only hurt yourself.” He grabbed Talos by the ankle and dragged him along through what Darcy realized was a small space ship. She twisted and pulled and tried to dig her heels in, but nothing deterred the blue-skinned giant.

“Stop!” she yelled. “You’re hurting him!”

“He’ll live,” growled her jailer. 

“He’s bleeding from his ears,” Darcy yelled, trying to pry his fingers from her arm. “What did you do to him?”

The big man didn’t reply. They reached a heavy bulkhead door and he punched in a code to unlock it. He threw Darcy in first, and then Talos. The door closed with a sense of finality. Darcy crawled across the floor of the cell to Talos, lifting his head up to rest on her thigh. She swiped at his pointed ears with the cuff of her sweater.

“What  _ did _ they do to you?” she muttered. “Shoot you with a brain-melting ray?”

“Don’t,” Talos croaked.

“What?” Darcy asked, leaning down so she could hear him.

“Don’t… put yourself… in danger for me,” Talos whispered roughly.

“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” Darcy told him firmly. “I  _ won’t _ let them hurt you anymore.”

“You don’t understand,” Talos murmured, reaching up to grab her wrist. “My people… are practically extinct. Every child… even unborn… is sacred. I will die before I let them hurt your child.”

She had no words to reply to that.

xXx

“Where. Is. Darcy?” Loki growled. The poor security officer gulped and stammered something intelligible. Loki grabbed the man’s armored vest and lifted him off his feet until their noses were centimeters apart.

“Where.  _ Is _ . She?” he snarled again.

“Mr Odinson, put the nice man down,” Coulson said carefully. “He wasn’t even on this level when Ms Lew-- _ Gersemi _ was taken.”

“Loki, listen to the man,” Clint added. “We’ve got too much to do right now. Put him down.”

Disgusted, Loki dropped the guard, who promptly crumpled to the floor and had to be helped back to his feet by Steve.

They were in Jane’s lab, where the Tesseract was now guarded by a full complement of guards both inside and outside the laboratory. They’d gone over the security footage six times by now. Talos and Darcy exit the elevator, they are confronted by Elsie, who fires on both of them, and then the footage ends. There was no indication of where Darcy was taken.

“Alright,” Coulson announced. “I want the Triskelion searched from top to bottom. If there’s a single piece of dust out of place, I want to hear about it.”

“What can I do?” Steve demanded, drawing himself up to his not-insignificant height.

“I want you to coordinate defense of this lab, Captain,” Coulson replied. “I want every possibility analyzed and planned for. No one comes in or out without proper authorization.”

Steve nodded. “I can do that. Can I keep Loki?”

“No,” Loki bit out at the same time Coulson said, “Absolutely.”

Steve turned to Loki before he could protest. “Look, I know you’re worried about Darcy and I know you want to be out there doing something.  _ Trust _ me, I understand. But you’re no good to them if you’re not focused. I can use your expertise here.”

Loki took a deep breath. Steve was… not incorrect. His emotions were unruly and he could not think clearly. His mind kept conjuring horrible images of Darcy wounded, tortured, or dead. He had failed her, failed their child, and so soon after he had given his word to both her and Lord Draumr.

“Very well,” he growled. “I will assist you here.”

Steve nodded. “Good. Let’s get to work.”

Loki heard the commotion at the laboratory door less than an hour later. The door beeped as it was unlocked by a security badge, then slid open. “Uh, Captain?” A nervous-looking guard poked his head into the lab. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Steve straightened from where he and Loki stood over a makeshift command center; little more than a folding table covered in laptops and tablet computers. “Who is it?” he demanded.

“Only the most qualified person to help in  _ any _ situation,” said a new Human as he breezed into the room. He was not tall, with tanned skin. His dark hair and carefully-trimmed beard were flecked with silver, and he wore a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. “Well, well, well, look at what we have here. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from his ice nap.”

Steve sighed heavily. “You must be Tony Stark.”

“I must be,” the newcomer agreed. “I have to say, Captain Rogers, you’re not  _ quite _ what I expected. I thought you’d be more… you know… patriotic.”

“Agent Benson?” Steve called. The nervous guard appeared again. “Does Mr. Stark have clearance to be in here?”

Agent Benson consulted his tablet. “Uh, yes, Captain. Says here he’s a consultant and he’s been approved by the director himself.”

“Thank you,” Steve said with a heavy sigh.

“Not going to get rid of me that easily, Cap,” Stark said gleefully. He made a beeline towards the Tesseract containment device. “Ooh, pretty lights. What does this do?”

“Do  _ not _ touch anything,” Jane snapped, slapping his hand away. “This  _ isn’t _ a toy, and you can break something if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“And how do you know I don’t know what I’m doing?” Stark demanded.

“You don’t have enough PhDs,” Jane retorted.

“Excuse me, I am the current holder of a Doctorate of Physics, Mechanical Engineering, and Electrical Engineering,” Stark protested.

“Unless you have ones in Quantum Physics, Astronomy, and Theoretical Astrophysics,  _ hands off _ ,” Jane growled.

Stark backed up, hands raised in surrender. “ _ Conceditur _ , Doctor,”

“Who is this man?” Loki demanded of Steve.

“He’s a very famous inventor,” Steve replied, turning back to the computers. “He built himself a suit of flying armor and calls himself Iron Man. I knew his father during the war.”

Loki turned back to where Jane was threatening Stark with her metal-encased clipboard. She caught his eye and he signed,  _ Ignore him. He your time waste. _

_ I know _ , Jane signed back.  _ He idiot _ .

Loki couldn’t argue with that.

xXx

The  _ Dread Nocturne _ turned out to be… big. And that was all Darcy really had time to notice as she was dragged down passageway after passageway until she and Talos were deposited into a large, dimly-lit chamber whose only ornamentation was an octagonal pool of quicksilver.

Yon-Rogg and El-Syr were waiting for them.

“You want the Skrull, or the Terran first?” asked the big man.

“The Terran,” Yon-Rogg replied, rubbing his chin. “I want to know why a simple life form like her can resist the Supreme Intelligence.”

“ _ You’re _ simple,” Darcy muttered as she was made to kneel in the quicksilver again. She didn’t try to fight. She knew any one of them could easily take her down, even El-Syr, who still had that strange gun strapped to her hip.

The threads crawled up her body, seeking bare skin until they found her temples. Darcy took a deep breath before she went under again.

She wasn’t in the living room. She stood, barefoot, in a thin layer of perfectly-reflective water over a hard surface. The ceiling overhead was made of one single, massive mirror. There were no walls.

“Well, aren’t you a conundrum,” said Cece’s voice behind her.

Darcy spun around. Cece looked exactly like Darcy had left her just a few days before, her hands in the pockets of her business slacks. “I know you’re not my mom,” Darcy said. “Why do you still look like her?”

“I take the form of whoever you respect the most,” the person-who-was-not-Cece said with a casual shrug. “Trust me, Darcy-Dee. I’m a lot prettier like this.”

“Fine, whatever,” Darcy snapped impatiently, waving a hand in front of her face. “Let’s get this over with. I’m not going to help you.”

  
“I don’t need you to help me,” Not-Cece said. She stepped forward, an inhuman smile stretching her lips, revealing very white, very sharp teeth. “I need you to  _ break _ .”


	12. The Corinthian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! The delay in posting is because I have been working on getting A Profound Silence printed off, and that's been basically a second job. I've had a lot of prepping to do, but I have ordered a proof, so we'll see if our hard work payed off.
> 
> I'd like to thank Traxus_IV for acting as editor, Wynni, who designed the title/dedication page, and @dark.london.art who designed the cover.
> 
> If you guys want to purchase a copy of the book, there is a link at the bottom of my profile. Those of you who ordered with me first will receive a little bonus surprise ;-)

“ _Loki_ ,” Jane hissed.

He looked up, worried that something had happened without his knowledge. Jane peeked out from around the containment device for the Tesseract, holding a tablet in one hand. When he met her gaze, she beckoned for him to join her.

_Okay?_ He asked in ASL. She nodded and beckoned again. Loki glanced over at Captain Rogers, who insisted Loki still call him “Steve”. He was currently arguing with Stark--again. So no one noticed when Loki slipped away from the command center to join Jane.

“Look,” she said without preamble, shoving the tablet at him. He took it and studied the readouts. He recognized it immediately.

“These are the readings your father recorded during his time with the Stargate Project,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jane agreed. “And look at these.” She swiped the display to the next image. “ _This_ is the communications frequency Agent Talos used to contact the Director to tell him the Tesseract was in danger. I hacked into the SHIELD data when I heard that Agent Talos is an _alien_ . Anyway, _look_.”

“They are identical,” Loki realized.

“Do you know what this _means_?” Jane demanded excitedly.

“Your father was not insane?” Loki offered. Jane hit him in the arm with the tablet.

“ _Yes_ , Loki. My dad _wasn’t_ insane! He actually _did_ pick up something with his deep space communications array!” Her expression fell. “But it’s classified, so I can’t email it to my mother and tell her to suck it.”

Loki patted her shoulder. “Take heart in the fact you favor your father over her, then.”

That brightened her up again, but only for a moment, because she scowled at something over Loki’s shoulder. “Great. _Him_ again.”

Loki turned to see Stark bearing down on them. “Hey! Alien guy!”

“ _How_ did he get clearance to know you’re not Human?” Jane muttered. “He’s a walking, talking security risk.”

“You. Alien prince person. Loki, right? As in, _the_ Loki? God of Mischief and Lies? Is it true you turned into a horse that one time and gave birth to a--”

Loki saw red. It was difficult enough to keep his temper while Darcy and his unborn child were in danger, but to speak in such a manner about Sleipnir was unconscionable. His blood pounded in his ears, drowning out all sounds except the high-pitched ringing coming from the back of his skull.

It was only the frantic tone of Jane’s voice that managed to pierce the blood-fog and he came to himself with Jane pushing against his chest with all her feeble strength while Stark hid behind Steve, peeking around the much-larger man with a puckish expression.

“Hair trigger much?” Stark asked. “So I’m guessing it’s true.”

“Shut the fuck up, Stark,” Jane snarled over her shoulder. “Do you have any idea how close you came to dying just now? He can _light things on fire_ with his _mind_.”

“Wait, seriously?” Stark sounded more interested than intimidated. “Can he explode someone’s head, or is it more ‘Firestarter’?”

“I think it’s time you took a walk,” Steve growled. “Agent Barton, please take Stark somewhere else for at least an hour.”

Loki blinked and looked around. Clint pushed away from the corner he’d been lurking in and prowled over. “Let’s go, Stark,” he said firmly.

“Why do I have to leave just because he can’t keep his cool?” Stark demanded. “Seems to me if he can’t keep a level head in the face of some good-natured jibing, maybe _he_ shouldn’t be around sensitive equipment.”

“He’s been here longer than you have,” Clint replied flatly. “And we like him better.”

Once Stark was safely escorted out of the laboratory, Steve turned back to Loki. “You good?” he asked sincerely.

Loki nodded. “Yes. I am fine.”

“Look, you gotta just ignore him,” Steve went on. “He’s just trying to get a rise outa you. I knew his father, and he was exactly the same.”

“You knew Howard Stark?” Jane asked sharply.

Steve’s eyes widened. “Uh… yeah,” he admitted, looking defeated. “I served with him, during the war.”

It was Jane’s turn to look surprised. “The war?” she echoed. “You mean World War II? Wait, does that mean you’re--”

“Yeah,” Steve said, resigned. “I’m _that_ Captain Rogers.”

Jane looked as if she was about to faint. “Oh, my god,” she whispered. “Oh, my god. Darcy is going to _die_ when she finds out.”

Loki knew that Jane was not serious about Darcy perishing, but he still had no idea what was going on. “I’m sorry,” he interjected. “I don’t understand the significance.”

Jane slapped his arm several times. “He--He’s Captain _America_ ,” she breathed. “He’s _alive_ … and… um… not old.”

Steve looked intensely embarrassed. “I was frozen in the ice in Arctic,” he explained. “The supersoldier serum kept me alive, and…” He ended with a shrug.

“I still don’t understand,” Loki said.

“Okay, um, Captain America was-- _is_ \--widely considered to be the first modern superhero,” Jane explained excitedly. “He fought during World War II against Hydra and the Nazis and it was believed that he died crashing a plane full of bombs into the Arctic. That was almost _seventy_ years ago!”

Steve rubbed the back of his head, his face tinged pink, and said nothing. Loki gave him a level look. “Does your experience fighting in that war assist you in protecting the Tesseract from the Kree?” he asked.

“It does, actually,” Steve replied.

“Very well,” Loki said simply. “That is all I care about.”

Steve looked intensely relieved, but was saved from responding by Coulson’s arrival. “Dr. Foster, Mr. Odinson. Captain. I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

“What is it?” Jane demanded. “Is it Darcy?”

Loki’s stomach clenched and he wasn’t relieved when Coulson shook his head. “No… actually, maybe. About an hour ago our satellites detected a shadow on the far side of the moon. We wouldn’t have detected it at all if it hadn’t reflected sunlight for about three seconds directly into the satellite’s sensor array.”

“What is it?” Jane demanded.

“We believe it might be a spaceship,” Coulson told them. “And it’s possible this is where Miss Lew--sorry, Miss Gersemi--and Agent Talos were taken.”

“A _spaceship_ ,” Jane echoed. “How are we supposed to get them _back_?”

“We’re working on that,” Coulson said, not remotely assuring. “In the meantime, we were hoping you, Dr. Foster, might be willing to work with Mr. Stark on rigging a line of communication between us and Agent Talos’ people.”

Jane’s eyes took on a fierce light. “Yeah. I can do that.”

That was the moment the building exploded.

xXx

Darcy collapsed to the floor-not-floor with a pained gasp. The thin film of liquid covering the mirrored surface did not soak into her clothing. Not-Cece stood over her, still grinning like a demented skull.

“You can make the pain stop any time, Darcy-Dee,” she said in a leering tone that Cece would never have used. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“Suck a dick,” Darcy muttered. “Suck a whole bag of dicks.”

A jolt of pain burned through her nervous system, starting from the top of her head and working its way slowly down. She writhed, kicking up silver droplets that hung, suspended, in the air like glistening jewels.

“You still haven’t told me how a simple Terran can resist the might of the Supreme Intelligence,” not-Cece said, inspecting her nails with insincere indifference. “I’ve broken many of your kind in my time.”

“Pretty sure you haven’t,” Darcy replied, pushing to her knees. “There really isn’t anyone quite like me.”

Not-Cece waved her hand dismissively. “You Humans are all the same. Weak. Cowardly. You’ll do anything to save your own skin, no matter the price.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Darcy said with a faint smile. “I may be Terran, but I sure as hell ain’t Human.”

She’d been waiting for the right moment to unleash the weapon Dream had planted deep in her brain, waiting for her enemy to let down their guard. And this moment, this was it. She reached deep within her, down to her very core, found the blood of the Eternals, and drew from it as hard as she could.

The transition from the dreamscape to reality was sudden and jarring. The screaming didn’t help. Darcy collapsed onto the floor by the interface, pressing her hands over her ears and screwing her eyes shut. The screaming lasted for a long time. She wasn’t quite sure how long. There were other noises too; horrible squelching, tearing, dripping noises that rang through the whole ship.

Silence fell so quickly and suddenly that she lost her breath from the weight of it. She cautiously opened her eyes and raised her head.

The two guards and El-Syr were dead. There was no questioning it. El-Syr’s eyes had been gouged out and there was blood and viscous fluid under her fingernails. The front of one guard’s skull was crushed to pieces, blue blood and brain matter leaking between the fractures. A similar stain was smeared on the bulkhead above his body. The remaining guard had slit his own throat.

Darcy threw up. She spat, gulped down air, and threw up again.

She knew what Dream had taught her to do. She knew she would trap the crew of the ship in a waking nightmare. She did _not_ know what they would do to escape it. 

Darcy pushed herself to her feet and stumbled toward the door, slipping in the pool of blood under the second guard. The door was not locked, and she escaped into the passageway. The nightmare was not over.

Kree bodies were strewn along the dim, straight corridor, all with horrific self-inflicted injuries. Some had part of their skulls blasted away. Some had bitten their own tongues and lips off. One in particular had clawed his throat to bloody ribbons. Darcy threw up again when she saw his body.

The only thing that kept her going was her need to find Talos. She suspected he was nearby, so she checked every door she came across. She had tried to shield him from the nightmare, but she wasn’t certain she’d been successful.

She gave up after the seventh door upon finding yet another chamber full of corpses. Her stomach had nothing left to offer and her nose had gone numb to the smell of blood and urine and feces. She collapsed against the wall, pulling her sweater tighter around her, and began to weep.

“Darcy? Oh, _shit_. Darcy, are you okay?”

She jerked her head up hard enough to bang her skull painfully against the metal wall. Daniel picked his way through the bodies toward her, the hem of his shadowy cloak dragging through the viscera without soiling.

“Daniel! Thank god. What are you doing here?”

“Dad sent me to get you. He said you would need help. What _happened_?”

“I… uh… I locked them in a waking nightmare,” Darcy admitted as he helped her to her feet. She embraced him tightly and he hugged her back.

“ _Jesus_ , Darcy. I’ve never seen a nightmare do _this_ before. Which one did you use?”

“Um, the Corinthian?” Darcy said, uncertain. “I used whichever Dad gave me.”

Daniel whistled. “He must have been _pissed_ to give you the Corinthian. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He wrapped his cloak around both of them.

“Where are we going?” Darcy asked, clutching the cloak like a comfort blanket.

“Home, for the moment. It’s the safest place for you.”

“What about Loki? Where is he?”

“Well…” Daniel hesitated. “I’ll tell you later. He’s alive. For now.”

“Wait, what is that supposed to--” But Daniel had already stepped them into the Dreaming, and skelligs flashed by while Daniel dream-walked faster than Darcy ever thought possible, skipping from one dreaming soul to another, always going deeper, further, until they were at the palace gates and through.

Darcy let go of Daniel and stepped away. “What do you mean ‘alive; for _now_ ’?” she demanded.

“The building he was in was destroyed,” Daniel told her bluntly.

The bottom of Darcy’s stomach dropped out. “Oh, god,” she whispered, pressing and hand to her midsection. “Take me there. Now.”

“No,” Daniel replied, wrapping his arm around her waist and guiding her toward the library. “It’s not safe. And you can’t do anything for him now. Rescue crews are already working. And Loki is a god, Darcy. A little thing like a building being dropped on him isn’t going to slow him down for long.”

“But what about Jane?” Darcy demanded. “And Clint and Coulson and Steve?” She twisted and tried to break free of his grasp. “What about Talos? We _left_ him on that ship!”

“No, we didn’t,” Daniel assured her. “He’s got help heading this way. Just _trust_ me, little sister. We’ve got everything taken care of.”

“We?” Darcy asked faintly as they arrived in the library. 

There were three people waiting for them: Lucien, Dream, and a white-Haired man wearing round sunglasses Darcy didn’t recognize.

“Dad,” Darcy called out in relief, and Daniel released her. She ran over to the Lord of Dreams and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his threadbare black t-shirt. He embraced her back, his touch cool and gentle.

“ **Daughter. I am relieved you are safe**.”

She pulled back far enough to tilt her head back and meet his starry gaze. “What the hell did I do to those people?” She demanded.

Dream indicated the white-haired man. “ **You unleashed a nightmare on them. Daughter, this is the Corinthian**.”

The Corinthian smiled creepily, exactly like a nightmare would. “Hello, Mistress Darcy,” he said in a low, eerie voice. “I am happy to have been of service to you.” He reached up to remove his glasses, revealing empty, hungry sockets lined with teeth.

Darcy screamed.


	13. Fear Is The Mind-Killer

Loki was surprised he regained consciousness. The last thing he remembered was a massive noise and the ceiling caving in. He opened his eyes. He lay on his back, a metal beam pinning him down. Huge slabs of concrete formed a sort of sheltered space around him, which was probably why he was still alive.

“Jane?” he called, his throat dry with dust. “Jane, can you hear me?”

“I’m here,” Jane’s voice called back, and Loki went limp with relief. “I’ve got Captain Rogers, but he’s not great.”

Loki closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. “How badly is he injured?”

“He’s impaled on two pieces of rebar. One’s through his thigh and the bone’s intact, but the other is through his ribcage. Missed his heart but his lungs sound really bad.”

“I didn’t know you were trained in healing,” Loki said, pushing at the beam across his chest. It didn’t budge.

“My mother is a world-renowned surgeon. I’ve picked up a few things.”

Loki stopped trying to push the beam off of him and instead inspected his surroundings. If he moved the beam far enough to crawl from underneath it, it would destabilize the fragile bubble around them, crushing them under the full weight of the wreckage that had once been the Triskelion. He would need to get creative.

“Jane, where are you?”

“Your twelve o’clock and slightly below you,” she replied.

He craned his head back and then twisted his neck, but he couldn’t see her. “I am going to use magic to reinforce our shelter, then I am going to get out from under this beam,” he told her.

“That thing has to weigh at least a ton,” Jane protested. “You’ll never be able to move it.”

“I don’t intend to,” Loki said. He sent tendrils of magic into the concrete above him, shoring up the debris so it wouldn’t fall should the beam shift unexpectedly. It took a surprising amount of energy, and he was left exhausted and shaking. 

“ _ Jesus _ , Loki,” Jane breathed. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

A network of glowing green lines arched over them like a wireframe dome, holding the debris at bay. It would last for an hour, perhaps two if they were fortunate. It did not give Loki much time to formulate an exit plan.

“Jane, I am going to change shape now,” Loki called. “Please do not panic.”

“What do you mean change sha--” Jane cut herself off with a scream when Loki abruptly shapeshifted into a large green serpent.

The shift from Asgardian-Loki to Serpent-Loki was, as usual, disorienting for several long, precious moments. The serpent mind threatened to overwhelm him and he had to fight to retain control of his instincts. Jane continued to scream despite his warnings.

Once he pulled himself together, he slithered out from under the beam and paused a moment to make sure that the beam didn’t shift. Only once he was sure everything was stable did he return to his Asgardian form.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Jane gasped. “Loki,  _ what _ the  _ fuck _ ?!”

“I can change shape at will,” Loki told her, stretching the kinks out of his neck with a satisfying  _ crack _ . “The serpent form seemed the best to use under the circumstances.”

“You can change  _ shape _ ,” Jane echoed, staring at Loki with huge, brown eyes.

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “We can discuss this later.” She had been right about Captain Rogers. He did not look good. He was barely conscious, his breathing wet and ragged. Loki knew better than to try and lift Steve off the rebar, but he would need to cut the metal to free the Captain.

He lay flat on his stomach next to Steve to see how much room he had to work with. Not very much. A cutting spell was as likely to slice through Steve as it was through the metal. He would have to use one of his knives.

He had one knife, very small, the blade no longer than his little finger, but it was made of  _ seidrgilt _ and it could but through any substance in the universe. He summoned it to his hand and addressed the captain.

“Steve, can you understand me?”

“....Yeah,” he whispered roughly, his eyelids fluttering.

“Steve, I am going to cut you free. It will cause you a great deal of pain, but I need you to remain as still as possible. Can you do that for me?”

Steve huffed out a pained breath. “I can do this all day,” he replied weakly.

Loki nodded and used the last of his magic to lift Steve two fingers-breadth off the debris. Steve groaned and coughed, but otherwise remained perfectly still. Loki lowered himself back onto his stomach and slid his hand under Steve’s back toward the first bar. The awkward angle and confined space made the going slow, but the knife did cut through the rebar easily. When the metal finally snapped free Steve whimpered and then passed out.

“Is he alive?” Jane demanded shrilly.

“He lives,” Loki assured her. “Hold his leg still while I cut the other.” The second bar was much easier, and Loki cut through it with only three slices.

“Now what?” Jane asked.

“Now I rest,” Loki replied, laying on his back with his hands folded over his chest. “I used all of my energy to shield us. I need to rest awhile if I am to get us out of here.”

“How long is ‘awhile’?” Jane asked worriedly.

“A quarter of an hour,” Loki told her. “No more.”

“What about Captain Rogers?”

“He will live, for now. Definitely for the next fifteen minutes.”

Jane did not look convinced, but there was nothing Loki could do. He took three deep breaths, triggering a restorative trance, and plunged deep into sleep.

xXx

The Triskelion was  _ gone _ .

Darcy stood next to Daniel at the edge of the wreckage, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Loki’s in there,” she whispered. “And Jane. Oh, my god,  _ Jane _ .”

Daniel squeezed her hand. “We’ll find them, I promise,” he told her softly.

“Danny. Sweets. Are you okay?”

Darcy whirled around. Death stood behind them, wearing, of all things, a black pantsuit and a black top. Her normally unruly hair had been smoothed down into a semblance of order, atop which she wore a feathered fascinator with a veil that covered her face. She reached up with gloved hands to fold the veil back.

Darcy fell into Death’s arms the moment she opened them, sobbing into her aunt’s shoulder. “Is Loki in there?” Darcy gasped. “Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Dath assured her. “So is your friend Jane. But they’re in danger. I can show you where they are, but I can’t help you rescue them.”

Darcy wiped her eyes dry on the back of her hand. “I know.” There was no point in getting angry over the Eternals’ refusal to interfere in ‘mortal matters’. She could rant and scream until she was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t change anything.

Firefighters in yellow jackets and volunteers in fluorescent vests picked over the rubble, calling out for any survivors. They completely ignored the three Endless scrambling gracefully through the debris. Well, Death and Daniel were graceful. Darcy was very much  _ not _ .

Finally Death came to a halt and pointed down at their feet. “Here. Straight down,” she said. “They are trapped, but safe for the moment. Only the Captain is injured.”

“Who?” Darcy asked, confused.

Death lowered her veil over her face again. “Captain Rogers,” she replied. “Excuse me. I have to get to work.”

Daniel knelt on a more-or-less flat concrete slab and pressed his hands to the warm surface, his blue eyes drifting closed. “Yeah, they’re here,” he confirmed. “But they’re pretty deep. There’s no way the Humans will be able to get them out.”

“What about us?” Darcy demanded. “Can we?”

“If one of them is unconscious, yes,” Daniel said, getting to his feet. “We can come through their dream and pull them back through the Dreaming.”

Darcy blinked. “Wait. You and Dad go in and out of the Dreaming wherever you want. Why do we have to go through a dream now?”

“Because if we don’t, we could come through under a million tons of concrete and steel,” Daniel told her. “Traveling through the Dreaming is dangerous as it is. Only Dad really has complete control over it. You and I… we’re not technically supposed to exist.”

Darcy absorbed that for a moment. “Right. Okay. So. What now?”

Daniel offered her his hand. “Let’s go get your boyfriend.”

The Dreaming on the other side of the wreckage was dim, formless, and noisy. Darcy saved questions for later and looked up at Daniel for guidance, a slightly more hysterical part of her brain wondering why every man in her life was  _ so goddamned tall _ .

“You know Loki best,” Daniel told her. “Reach out and feel for him, then bring us into his dream.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” Darcy protested. “I barely go into the Dreaming on my own!”

Daniel put his hands on her shoulders. “You and Loki are connected,” he told her. “You’re carrying his child. Part of him is inside you. Use that to find him.”

Darcy muttered inaudibly about the ridiculousness of the whole situation, and placed both hands, fingers spread, on her still-flat stomach. She was all of six weeks pregnant out of a two year gestation. The embryo would be barely big enough to see with the naked eye. But she still took a deep breath and tried to focus.

“I don’t feel anything,” she complained impatiently.

“Try harder. Reach inside yourself and find that connection.”

“Easier said than done,” Darcy snapped.

“Take a deep breath. Stay calm. I know you can do this.”

Darcy bit back a rather nasty retort and closed her eyes again. She slowed her breathing and repeated the meditation mantra Loki had taught her. 

_ I will not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. I will face my fear. I will let it pass through me and over me. When it is gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. _

It took a couple of repetitions, but Darcy felt her heart rate slow well past normal and her breathing turn shallow and even. She had a strange, gradual feeling as if she fit inside her own skin for the first time in her life. She could sense each one of her organs; her lungs, her heart, and the tiny bundle of potential resting behind her belly button.

She seized onto that potential, dove into it, and  _ pulled. _

The dream was gray and empty, with no substance at all. Loki lay on his back, his hands folded on his chest, eyes closed. He looked as if he had been laid out for a funeral, and for a moment Darcy’s heart stopped. Then Loki opened his eyes.

“Darcy,” he whispered, and then scrambled to his feet. Darcy flung herself at him, clinging to the front of his tunic as she broke down into sobs again. “I’m alright,” he assured her. “I’m not injured.”

She couldn’t temper her tears enough to reply.

“Are you hurt?” Loki demanded, rubbing her back gently. “Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head even though it was a lie. She just didn’t want to talk to him about the destruction she had caused when she unleashed the Corinthian.

“We have to move quickly,” Daniel urged. “We may not have much time left.”

“I’ve stabilized the debris around us,” Loki told him over Darcy’s head. “But I’m not certain how much clean air we have.”

“We need to pull you and the others into the Dreaming so we can get you out of here,” Daniel explained. “You’re far too deep for the Human rescue services to reach you.”

“Captain Rogers is badly wounded,” Loki replied. “But Jane is unscathed, as far as I can tell.”

“I’d better go through and talk to Jane,” Darcy told Loki’s tunic. “She might not freak out if it comes from me.”

“I rather think she will, anyway.”

“Great,” Darcy muttered. She pushed against the barrier between the Dreaming and the Waking, stretching the intangible membrane thin enough to coalesce on the other side.

She hit her head painfully against a slab of concrete and dropped to her knees, blinking away white stars.

“ _ Darcy?! _ ” Jane shrieked, her voice over-loud in the cramped space. “Where the  _ fuck _ did you come from?” She was cradling Steve’s head in her lap, and Darcy’s stomach clenched at the sight of rebar protruding from his chest.

“Long story,” Darcy replied, gingerly probing the injured part of her skull. She didn’t think she was bleeding. “But I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“How?” Jane asked, her voice shrill. She gestured. “We were on sublevel  _ fourteen _ !”

“Magic,” Darcy replied, because it was easier than trying to explain the Dreaming. “I need you to close your eyes really really tightly and hang on to me. Don’t open your eyes no matter what.”

“What is going on?” Jane demanded. 

“Janey, I need you to trust me,” Darcy said, slowly and gently. “Can you do that for me?”

Jane hesitated. “What about Captain Rogers?”

“Daniel will take care of him,” Darcy promised.

“Dr. Jackson?”

Darcy grimaced. “No. My brother Daniel. We’ll do all the introductions later, I promise. Just… Just take my hand, okay?”

Jane hesitantly took Darcy’s proffered hand, screwing her eyes shut. Darcy pushed against the barrier again, and then they were through into Loki’s dream.

“You made it!” Daniel exclaimed, sounding relieved.

“Who is that?” Jane asked sharply, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Where are we?”

“That’s Daniel, my brother,” Darcy explained. “ _ Don’t _ open your eyes yet.”

“I  _ won’t _ .”

“I’m going to get Captain Rogers,” Daniel said. “And then I’ll pull Loki’s body through.”

“Body?” Jane repeated, frantic. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“I’m right here, Jane,” Loki assured her. “I’m fine.”

Jane took a deep breath and squeezed Darcy’s hand. “You said you were going to explain everything, right?”

“I promise,” Darcy replied.


	14. To And From Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya sweets!
> 
> I'm hoping that now since the printing of A Profound Silence is done, I can get back to daily updates Tuesday-Saturday. I know I said I wanted to go back to longer chapters, but I'm finding that these short, snappy chapters help keep my creative juices flowing, and I gotta do what I gotta do to make the fickle bitch that is my muse happy.
> 
> Feed the muse by leaving a comment.  
> Feed the author by purchasing a copy of APS. There is a link in my bio to the publisher's website.
> 
> Thank you, and as always, enjoy!

Daniel brought them through the barrier into a hospital. He carried Steve in his arms like some kind of twisted Pietá, proving himself stronger than he looked. To the credit of the nurse manning the ER intake desk, he only freaked out for about fifteen seconds when five people appeared out of thin air in the ER lobby. Then he summoned a swarm of nurses and orderlies who whisked Steve away to surgery. He stayed behind, however, to personally check the others.

“Look straight ahead,” he instructed Loki, flicking a pinlight at Loki’s eyes. Loki winced and raised his hand to protect his face. “You have a pretty severe concussion, sir. You’ll need to see a doctor.”

“I am fine,” Loki replied flatly. “Please see to my girlfriend. She is pregnant.”

Darcy tried to protest, but Loki and Daniel both sent her quelling glares.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the nurse asked. His name tag read ‘Culber’.

“Uh, he and Steve had a building drop on them,” Darcy said, hooking her thumb in Loki’s direction. “I was electrocuted.”

Nurse Culber blinked at her a few times, brown eyes wide. “You were… You need to come with me. Now.”

“I will accompany you,” Loki offered. Nurse Culber gave him a level stare.

“Yes, you will,” he growled. He led them to a private examination room and began to check Darcy’s vitals. “Do I need to contact the police?” he asked.

“No, they already know,” Darcy replied. “Where are we, anyway?”

Culber took the question in stride. “Syosset Hospital, Long Island.”

“Cool. So did you hear about the building blowing up in Manhattan?”

“How and  _ why _ are you here, then?” Culber demanded, typing numbers into his tablet.

“Superpowers,” Darcy replied glibly.

Culber gave her an unamused look. “Hmm,” was all he said. Then, “You’re going to need a sonogram. And your boyfriend needs a head X-ray.”

“Okay,” Darcy replied. “Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to call Loki’s boss.”

Culber handed it over without hesitation. “Both of you stay here while I go get the sonogram. And I’ve put in the order for… Loki? To go for an X-ray. Just… make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said gratefully. She punched in Clint’s number by memory and prayed there was an answer.

He picked up on the fifth ring. “Barton, who is this?”

“Clint, it’s Darcy.”

“ _ Darcy? _ Where the  _ fuck _ are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m at Syosset Hospital on Long Island.”

“How the hell did you get  _ there _ ?”

“Long story. Um, I’ve got Loki, Jane, and Steve with me. Steve isn’t good. He’s in surgery now. He got impaled by some rebar.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Right. Long story. I bet. Hang tight. I’ll get someone out to you as soon as I can.”

“Clint, there’s a giant spaceship somewhere near earth and Talos is still on it,” Darcy said in a rush.

He was silent for a few seconds. “We know about the ship. I’ll tell Coulson about Talos. Apparently the Director is worried about him. I gotta go. Stay safe, and tell Loki not to do anything stupid.”

Darcy snorted. “I’ll let him know.”

The sonogram turned out to be very anticlimactic. The only thing visible on the screen was a black dot in the middle of gray static that the doctor said was definitely a zygote. He then told Darcy she was probably only three weeks pregnant, and seemed surprised she already knew. Darcy didn’t reply.

They took Loki for an X-ray despite his protests, and Darcy returned to the waiting room to find Jane staring off with Daniel.

“He won’t answer any of my questions,” Jane said as soon as Darcy rejoined them.

“I thought it best if she got the truth from you,” Daniel replied dryly. “She doesn’t know me from Adam.”

Darcy started to say something and stopped. “Wait. If  _ Eve _ is in the… Is Adam…”

“No,” Daniel said before she could finish. “He’s definitely in the Silver City.”

“Right,” Darcy said. She turned to Jane. “Okay. So. Let me get through the whole story and then you can ask all the questions you want. Okay?”

Jane crossed her arms. “Fair enough.”

So Darcy laid it all out. How her mother was an alien goddess and her father was the anthropomorphic personification of dreams. How she could move through the Dreaming and summon voidfire. How Death and Destiny were actual people and how she and Loki were officially an item. When she was done, Jane was silent for a long time.

“You’re pregnant?” Jane asked at length.

“Yeah,” Darcy replied.

Jane considered that for a few moments. “Are you keeping it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Darcy said honestly.

Jane rubbed her lower lip. “Show me voidfire.”

Darcy summoned it to her left hand, the dark-edge green flames licking around her fingers. “Don’t try to touch it,” she warned.

Jane leaned over, studying it from a cautious distance. She held out her hand over Darcy’s. “It doesn’t give off heat.”

“No,” Darcy agreed.

Jane looked up at Daniel. “And you’re her adopted brother?”

Daniel nodded.

“Can you do this?” Jane asked.

“No. Darcy has the Greenblood from her mother which lets her do earth magicks. I was born Human. My power all comes from my-- _ our _ \--father.”

“Who is the Lord of Dreams,” Jane clarified slowly.

“Yup,” Darcy replied, dismissing the voidfire.

Jane rubbed her lip again. “Okay. I--uh--I’m going to need a new lab. We need to run some tests. Like, a  _ lot _ of tests. And I need a geneticist. Maybe a biologist. Simmons. She’s a biochemist. I’ll ask Coulson if I can have her again. And I bet Fitz can build an appropriate containment chamber so we can test out your powers.” She nodded to herself and reached for her back pocket, where she usually kept her notebook. It wasn’t there. “Dammit,” she whispered.

“Here,” Daniel said, pulling a moleskin journal out of thin air. “Will this do?”

“Thanks,” Jane said cautiously, taking it from him. Darcy dug a pen out of her own pocket, and Jane began scribbling frantically. Darcy pulled Daniel aside.

“That’ll keep her busy for the next few hours,” she said softly. “Can we talk about how we’re going to rescue Talos?”

“ _ We _ can’t,” Daniel told her. “Remember, I’m bound to the same laws as the other Eternals.”

Darcy rubbed her hand down her face. “Great. That means I have to do it myself.”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Daniel said sympathetically. He patted her shoulder. “But I believe in you. I know you can do it.”

“That makes one of us,” Darcy said dryly, and hugged him quickly. “Thanks, Dan.”

He hugged her back. “Good luck, Darce.”

Nurse Culber joined them after Daniel left, his tablet clutched in his hands. “Your friend… Mr. Rogers… is out of surgery. He’s doing well but he’s still under anesthesia so he’s not ready for visitors. Your boyfriend, Mr. Loki  _ does _ have a pretty bad concussion and a few microfractures to his skull, but there’s no bleeding or swelling, so he’s going to be fine.”

“Thank god,” Jane breathed, hugging her new notebook to her chest. “That’s so good to hear.”

Darcy nodded and rubbed her eyes. “Um… is there a food court or cafeteria I can buy some food at? None of us have eaten in a few hours and I’m  _ starving _ .”

“There’s a vending machine in the nurse’s break room that has sandwiches,” Culber offered. “I can take you.”

“That’d be wonderful.”

They walked in silence until they reached the breakroom, which seemed entirely too small to service all the nurses in the hospital. It was currently empty. As Darcy fed a crumpled 20 into the machine, Culber asked the question he had no doubt been chewing on since they arrived.

“So… you’re a superhero?”

Darcy punched in the code for the turkey and cheese sandwich three times. “No. Not really.”

“Well, you said, when you first got here--”

“Superpowers, I remember.” She stooped to get the sandwiches and turned to Culber. “Can you keep a secret?”

Culber’s brown eyes glazed over slightly, just long enough for her to catch it. “Yeah, of course,” he said quickly. Darcy wondered if that brief trance had anything to do with the fact she was the Goddess of Secrets.

“Loki and I are aliens,” she told him casually, ripping the plastic wrap on one of the sandwiches. It was slightly soggy and didn’t have enough mustard, but it was the best turkey and cheese sandwich she could ever remember having.

“A-aliens,” Culber stammered.

“Yup.” Darcy took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “We work for SHIELD. Well, Loki does. I used to, but I quit about six months ago.”

“Why?”

“Family shit,” Darcy replied with a shrug.

“You don’t…  _ look _ … like an alien.”

“Well, it turns out there’s quite a few alien species that may have possibly had a common ancestor and followed a similar evolutionary path,” Darcy told him. “I’m a Vanir and Loki’s Asgardian.” Not technically the truth, since she knew he was a Jötun, now. But she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her spreading that around.

“Oh,” Culber said quietly. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. The screen read ‘Paul’. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He turned away and held the phone to his ear. “Hey, babe, what is it?” His face went sickly gray. “What? You were  _ where _ ? Oh, my god Paul, are you alright?! Okay. Okay. I’m on my way.  _ Yes _ , right now!  _ Jesus _ , Paul!”

Culber hung up the phone. “Okay, so I need to tell you something. My husband, Paul, he works for Shield. He’s a mycologist doing R&D for the science division. He was in the Triskelion, which is apparently the building that got bombed. I have to get to Manhattan.”

“I’m so sorry,” Darcy said, reaching out to touch Culber’s arm. “Is he okay?”

“He’s not  _ badly _ hurt,” Culber assured her. “But my question is, do you need a ride?”

Darcy didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes we do.”

xXx

Jane elected to stay behind to wait with Steve, who finally woke up and could take visitors. Loki claimed the front seat of Culber’s electric BMW due to leg room, and Darcy was relegated to the back. As soon as they were out of the parking lot, Culber glanced sidelong at Loki.

“So…” he began. “Alien?”

Loki twisted to look over his shoulder at Darcy. “What did you tell him?” she demanded.

She shrugged at him, uncaringly. “Just the basics. I mean, we  _ did _ kinda just appear out of thin air with a dude who had a metal bar through his chest. Kinda suspicious, dontcha think?”

Loki sighed, but couldn’t disagree. “Yes,” he told the healer. “I, and my girlfriend, are both aliens.”

“That’s… astounding,” Culber said. “And amazing. So, after all this time, there really  _ is _ life out there.”

Darcy laughed behind them. “Oh, hon. The universe is so full of life it’s not even funny. Humans are just locked in this tiny little bubble they can’t see past. But if you could…”

“It’s just… I mean, this raises so many questions,” Culber said. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his hands clenched on the steering wheel. If Loki was an accurate judge of body language, and he generally  _ was _ , Culber was trying to distract himself from his husband’s injuries.

“And a lot of those questions you may not want the answers to,” Darcy cut in. “Are you religious, Mr. Culber?”

“Call me Hugh. And no. I mean, my grandparents are practicing Muslims, but neither of my parents chose to follow any organized religion. And, as my husband always says, my religion is science.”

Loki nodded. He could respect this man, he thought.

“And I suppose you’re right,” Culber went on. “Life outside of our solar system makes all of earth religions suspect. Take Christianity for instance. If a messiah supposedly died for the sins of humanity, what about all other life? Are they automatically condemned to hell?”

Loki was fairly certain he knew the answer to that question, but he chose not to answer.

“We’re not here to create existential crises or to disprove religions,” Darcy answered for both of them. “I was raised here by a Human foster mom and Loki came here for asylum.”

Culber shook his head. “You know, if I hadn’t seen you just…  _ arrive _ … I would think you were crazy. Maybe  _ I’m _ crazy.”

“You are not,” Loki assured him. “And neither are we.”

Darcy laughed harshly. “That’s still up for debate,” she said bitterly. Loki turned to look at her again.

_ What wrong _ ? He asked in ASL.

_ Later talk, _ she told him curtly. He grimaced but had to accept that.

It took nearly two hours to reach the site where the Triskelion once stood. SHIELD had set up a security perimeter and they were stopped by guards, but let them through when they saw Loki’s badge. Culber headed straight to the medical tent set up at the edge of the debris field. He waded in, still in his scrubs, calling his husband’s name. 

Loki stopped Darcy from entering the pavilion. “We will only be in the way, there,” he told her. “Let’s find Barton and Coulson and see what we can do.”

Darcy nodded jerkily. “Sounds good.”

He wondered again what happened while she was in Kree hands, and how she escaped, but she did not seem inclined to discuss it, so he didn’t push her. There would be time for that later. In the meantime, they had work to do.

They found Coulson barking orders from an elevated view atop a metal girder, directing yellow-vested workers guiding some sort of laser drill held up by a crane. He turned toward them as soon as he caught sight of them and clambered down to meet them.

“Loki, Darcy, thank god,” he said. He looked exhausted, covered in dust and bruises. His customary black suit was torn and stained, and there was a tremor in his hands. “Clint told me you got Dr. Foster and Captain Rogers out. Did anyone else survive in the lab?”

Loki shook his head. “Not that I am aware of.”

“And the Tesseract? Were you able to retrieve it?”

Loki frowned. “I don’t have it, no. Why?”

“Our sensors aren’t picking up it’s energy signature under the wreckage,” Coulson said worriedly. “That’s why we're trying to drill down to find it.”

“It was in sublevel 14,” Darcy pointed out. “There’s a lot of metal between us and it. Couldn’t that block the sensors?”

“The Tesseract’s energy signal is  _ very _ strong and  _ very _ unique,” Coulson told her. “We should be able to pick it up even through all of this.”

Darcy looked over at Loki. “Yon-Rogg,” she said softly.

“Who?” Coulson asked sharply.

“Yon-Rogg,” Darcy repeated louder. “He was the Kree in charge, I think.”

Coulson nodded. “We’re almost certain it was the Kree who brought the building down. It would make sense if it was a cover for extracting the Tesseract.” He rubbed his face, mixing dust and sweat into a dark paste on his skin. “I’ll update the Director. He’s not going to be happy. And we still have the damn spaceship in orbit.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Darcy said hollowly. “I don’t think it’ll be much of a threat.”

Coulson gave her a grim look. “And why is that?”

“All the Kree on that ship are dead.”

Loki stared at Darcy. For her to have survived a slaughter of that magnitude unscathed could only mean one thing. Coulson, however, hadn’t come to the same conclusion.

“How? What happened?”

Darcy stared off into the distance, her eyes glazed and haunted. “I killed them,” she whispered. “I killed all of them.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, sobs wracking her body. “Oh, god. I  _ killed _ them.”

Loki pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin as she trembled and wept. He knew this was the first time she had killed anyone, even in the heat of battle, and to have instigated a massacre of that scale… it would traumatize anyone.

  
It had certainly traumatized  _ him _ .


	15. Premonitions of Love and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told y'all recently that y'all are awesome? Because y'all are awesome!
> 
> Since the last chapter I wrote a children's book for my baby niece. It's pretty dang cute if I do say so myself.
> 
> The original shipment of A Profound Silence books has shipped! If you haven't emailed me your address, please do so soon.
> 
> And if you are interested in your own copy of A Profound Silence, the link to purchase is in my bio. Thank you!

They gathered in the far corner of the medical tent, huddled around a folding table holding a couple of tablets. Darcy looked around the small group, taking in the dirty, exhausted faces. Director Fury, herself, Loki, Natasha, Clint, Stark, and Coulson. That was all they had to get the Tesseract back. Everyone else was either injured, busy, or too far away.

Clint, Natasha, and Stark had been outside the building when it blew, only catching the edge of the shock wave. Fury had been in the lobby, and had made it outside just in time. Coulson, however, had been the luckiest. He’d been in the lab with Jane, Loki, and Steve, but the blast sent him flying into the elevator shaft, which had survived intact. All they’d had to do was send a harness down the shaft to pick him up.

“The question is, does Yon-Rogg know that the mothership is out of commission?” Clint asked, rubbing a hand down his face, smearing the dirt and sweat clinging to his skin. “Is he going to try to get the Tesseract back up there? And if he does, will he try to leave?”

“I would still like to know how Baywatch Barbie managed to take out over  _ two hundred _ aliens without getting a scratch on her,” Stark said, pointing at Darcy. “What kind of superpowers can do  _ that _ , and why isn’t she, I don’t know, locked up somewhere safe?”

Loki stepped forward, crowding into Stark’s personal space. “You even  _ think _ of laying a finger on her, and I will scatter your atoms between here and Svartalfheimr,” he growled.

Stark took a step backwards, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, whatever. Don’t touch your girlfriend. Still, anyone else thinking that she is very,  _ very _ dangerous?”

“Powerful, maybe,” Clint said. “Dangerous, no. And this is off topic. How are we going to get the Tesseract back?”

“Are we certain the Kree have the Tesseract?” Fury asked, glaring around the circle with his one eye.

“We drilled down to its last known position,” Coulson replied. “We didn’t find anything. And we’re not picking up its energy signature.”

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do we know how they managed to snatch the Tesseract  _ after _ the building blew?”

Coulson shook his head. “As of right now, we don’t even have the incendiary device. We’re still working on getting satellite imagery before and after the blast.”

“Yon-Rogg had a small ship,” Darcy said, raising her hand as if she was still in grade school. “He used it to transport me and Talos to the  _ Dread Nocturne _ . Can we, I dunno, scan for energy trails or alien technology?”

Everyone stared at her for a few heartbeats until a hot flush rose on her cheeks. Then Coulson cleared his throat. “That’s… actually not a bad idea. It’ll take us a couple of hours to knock together an algorithm, though.”

Stark pushed up the sleeves of his black t-shirt. “And that’s where I come in. JARVIS and I can throw something together in 45 minutes, tops.”

“And what’s our game plan should we find Yon-Rogg?” Fury demanded. “I’m short one Kree expert.”

Loki shrugged. “I have had some dealings with Kree before. Eliminating them should not be difficult.”

“‘Eliminating them should not be difficult’,” Stark echoed mockingly, even mimicking Loki’s British-sounding accent. “You plan on taking on several super-strong alien warriors by yourself, Purple Rain?”

Loki looked down his nose at the much-shorter Human. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said disdainfully.

“Look, we are only going to succeed if we work together,” Coulson interrupted before the pissing contest could continue.

“He’s right,” Natasha added. “So. Everything on the table. What sort of resources are we looking at?” She turned to Darcy. “I take it you’ve had time to practice your abilities over the last few months?”

Darcy nodded slowly. “Sort of. Um, I’ve got a pretty good handle on voidfire and some other things, but mostly I’ve just gotten harder to kill.”

“Uh-uh. No ma’am. Whatever insane plan you guys are concocting, Ms. Gersemi will  _ not _ be involved.”

Everyone turned to see Nurse Culber picking his way through the medical team towards them. He reached them and laid his hand on Darcy’s arm. “I am sure you all have the best intentions and you’re going to save the world and all that, but Darcy will be staying here. Under my supervision.”

“Who the hell are you?” Fury demanded bluntly.

“Hugh Culber, NP with Syosset Hospital, Long Island,” Culber replied proudly. “Currently the highest certified medical volunteer you’ve got.”

Darcy saw a second man hurrying through the pavilion, this one very pale, with blond hair and bright blue eyes surrounded by the worst bruises Darcy had ever seen. “Director, I am so sorry for my husband,” the man blurted as soon as he arrived. “He gets very bossy in a crisis.”

“It’s fine, Dr. Stamets,” Coulson said, holding up a hand. “Mr. Culber, why exactly can’t Ms. Gersemi assist us?”

“Because she’s pregnant,” Culber said, giving Darcy a disapproving look. She glared at him in reply, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out.

“Barely,” she protested. 

“How much is barely?” Coulson asked sharply. 

“Six weeks,” Darcy muttered.

“That’s halfway through the first trimester,” Natasha pointed out.

“If it was a  _ Human _ pregnancy,” Darcy protested. “Neither Loki nor I are  _ Human _ , so it’s gonna last a lot longer.”

“Be that as it may,” Coulson said, raising his voice. “Mr. Culber is right. Darcy, you’ll need to sit this one out.”

Darcy looked up at Loki. “What? Not going to even  _ try _ to back me up?”

Loki tilted his head toward Culber. “I happen to agree with the healer,” he admitted. Darcy punched him in the arm.

“Traitor,” she muttered. But she remembered what Talos said, about how even unborn children were sacred to his people. She was the blood-related offspring of an Eternal. Like her, the child she carried would be one of a kind. Maybe that made it sacred, too.

“You would be safer here,” Loki told her softly. He reached up to touch her cheek. “The Kree tortured you once. You do not have to face them again.”

She flinched away from his hand. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “But I’m not going to fight about this. I’ll stay here. Just find the Tesseract. Oh, and say ‘Hi’ to Aunt D for me.”

Loki frowned. “Why do you ask me that?”

“Because I fully expect you to cut Yon-Rogg’s stomach open and strangle him with his own entrails,” Darcy growled.

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Stark muttered in the background.

Loki stared at Darcy for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Finally he said, “We  _ will _ discuss what they did to you aboard the ship.” It was not up for debate.

“Fine. Whatever. Just don’t let him get away.”

He nodded. “I give you my word,” he said solemnly.

xXx

It wasn’t hard for Darcy to find a corner of the medical pavilion where no one would notice her. More patients were being brought in for triage before transport to a hospital that still had beds available. Darcy twisted the ring on her right hand.

“Lucien, I need a book.”

The Librarian appeared in front of her almost immediately. None of the Humans nearby could see him unless he wanted them to, and he very rarely did. “Yes, Mistress Darcy? How can I assist you?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “I need a book about Vanir pregnancies. You know, a ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’ sort of deal.”

To his credit, Lucien’s expression, mostly hidden behind his spectacles, did not change. “Ah, yes. I do think I have the very thing. One moment, please.” He flickered a few times, like an old TV with bad connection. When he solidified, he had a brand-new-looking book in his hands. “I believe this will suit your needs.”

She took it gingerly. It was bound with silk and leather, the title printed in runes across the top. “Um, I don’t read Norse very well,” Darcy said.

“You are the daughter of the Lord of Stories and the Shaper of Dreams,” Lucien reminded her not unkindly. “You should be able to understand and speak all languages, if you only remember how.”

“I do believe in fairies,” Darcy said, hugging the book to her chest.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucien asked, tilting his head. “I believe that is a reference to J. M. Barrie’s ‘Peter Pan’, is it not?”

“Yeah. Uh, my foster mom read it out loud to me when I was a kid. I just meant that, um, it seems like the secret to unlocking a lot of my abilities is the power of belief. Kinda like how Tinkerbell got better when everyone believed in her?”

“I see,” Lucien said with a small smile, satisfied that he now understood the reference. “Yes. There are definite similarities.”

“Thank you, Lucien,” Darcy said. “I’m sure this will be helpful.”

“ _ There _ you are,” Culber called, waving at her from three cots over. “I was afraid you’d run off.”

Darcy turned back to look for Lucien, but the Librarian was already gone. “I’m being good!” she called back. “I’m not going anywhere.” She lowered her voice to mutter to herself, “For now.”

xXx

Loki found himself working with Stark, much to his disgust. But no one else was available to assist the human with the algorithm to track alien technology and Stark claimed he needed a second pair of hands. It took them less than 45 minutes to cobble together an algorithm they could upload to SHIELD’s satellites to scan for foreign energy signatures.

It took a further 25 minutes for SHIELD’s network to complete the scan. They learned two things: the Tesseract was still on Midgarðr; so was Yon-Rogg. An alien vessel traveled from Manhattan to the New Mexican desert less than eight hours ago.

“And according to the images we pulled from right before the Triskelion went up in pieces,” Stark concluded, “It looks like it was this alien vessel that fired on us.”

“How did we not notice an alien spaceship hovering over Manhattan?” Coulson demanded. “Why is this thing not all over Twitter by now?”

“You know what Twitter is?” Stark asked.

Loki didn’t, and thought it best not to ask, given the facetiousness of the name. “Many planets have technology that can conceal spacecraft from unwanted eyes,” he said impatiently. “There is no reason to believe Yon-Rogg will stay in New Mexico for long. We should move quickly.”

“We’re already scrambling a quinjet,” Coulson assured him. “It’ll be here in about ten minutes. If you need time to prepare, I suggest you take it now.”

Loki left Stark to continue antagonizing Coulson and went in search of Darcy. He found her in a corner of the triage center, under the baleful watch of Nurse Culber, who apparently had not let her out of his sight. She was absorbed in the book she held, her hand obscuring the title.

“What are you reading?” he asked, coming to a halt beside her.

She flinched violently, nearly falling off the stool she was perched on. “ _ Christ _ , Loki!” she gasped. “Make a little noise or something. You scared the shit out of me.”

“My apologies,” Loki said dutifully. He had made no attempt to conceal his approach. Given her focus on her book and the noise of the triage center, it was not likely she would have heard him coming had he been deliberately noisy.

She took a few deep breaths and then closed the book, marking her place with her finger, so she could show him the cover. “It’s about Vanir pre-and postnatal care. I figured since I know jack-shit about Vanir physiology, I might as well do some reading.”

Loki wasn’t sure how he felt about this. “So… have you come to a decision?” he asked softly. “About the pregnancy?”

“No, not yet,” Darcy said quickly. “I just want to know… everything. You know?”

Loki rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. His own pregnancy had been brutal. He had been exhausted, ravenous, and subject to constant fits of heat-sickness. And during this time, he’d been confined to quarters so deep into the palace that even the servants had no idea it existed. Odin had been adamant no one, not even Thor, knew about his middle son’s indiscretion.

“Have you learned anything?” Loki asked. 

“Yeah. I’m not going to look like a whale and morning sickness lasts less than three months. If I keep the little polliwog it’s gonna be  _ awesome _ .”

“Polliwog?” Loki echoed. He wasn’t familiar with the word.

Darcy laughed. “It’s another word for tadpole, or baby frog. Look.” She opened the book and showed him an illustration. “During the early stages of development, embryos look like tadpoles.”

He did see the resemblance. “Your child is not yet at that stage,” he observed.

“ _ Our _ ,” Darcy said firmly, looking up at him with a frown. “ _ Our _ child, Loki.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, so as not to upset her. He would not,  _ could  _ not, think of the child as  _ his _ until Darcy came to a decision. He would not let himself hope. He would not give in to that weakness.

“We believe we know where Yon-Rogg is,” he said, to change the subject.

Darcy’s entire demeanor changed, her expression hardening. Her blue eyes, usually so open and honest, went cold and blank, as if shutters had been closed behind them. “When do you leave?” she asked, her voice neutral.

Loki checked his watch. “Seven minutes.”

She got to her feet, leaving the book on the stool. “Good luck,” she said. “Be careful.”

“I cannot make any promises in war,” he told her. She nodded silently. She reached into the back pocket of her pants and pulled out a folded square of black, shimmering fabric, which he did not recognize until she shook it out. She plunged her hand into the folds of the dream-cloak and pulled out a dagger. The blade was made from obsidian so black it swallowed the light that shone on its surface. The hilt was wrapped in leather and gold wire, and the pommel was a ruby carved with an owl.

“I, uh, I’m not sure where this came from,” Darcy said. “I found it in my pocket one day. I’m pretty sure it’s mine. My… sigil or something. Remember the picture of The Knowledge of Things Unseen? She was holding a bloody dagger. Anyway, I want you to take it.” She offered it to him.

“I cannot accept this,” Loki protested. “This is an embodiment of your seidr, your magick.”

“I’m not  _ giving _ it to you,” she told him impatiently. “I want you to  _ borrow _ it. It’s really fucking sharp and practically indestructible. I did some experiments on it. Jane would be proud of me.”

Loki gingerly took the weapon. It was warm to the touch and felt strangely  _ alive _ , as if it had a pulse and an aura. He knew it would cut through any sheath he attempted to use, so he vanished it to storage instead. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I will give it back to you when I return.”

“You better,” Darcy said warningly. “I kinda like it, even though I have no idea how to use it.”

“I will teach you,” Loki promised. He took her hand and drew her closer to him, close enough he could lean down and kiss her. “Don’t do anything foolish while I’m gone,” he said.

“I cannot make any promises in war,” she said with a sly smirk.

He smiled despite himself and kissed her again. “I will see you soon.”

She pushed him away. “You better get going before I change my mind and keep you here.”

Loki had marched to war countless times, the first when he was still a boy. He had never found it difficult, or frightening. He knew his skill in battle would keep him alive and bring him victory. Today, however, he found that turning and walking away from Darcy was the hardest thing he had ever done in his admittedly difficult life.

He loved her, he realized. More than anyone, or any _ thing _ , else in the universe.

He had a sudden, fleeting premonition that it would get him killed one day.


	16. The First Mother

Darcy walked the Dreaming.

She clutched her cloak tight around her, hood drawn over her face to protect herself from the cold, biting wind. She knew where she was, she thought, but she wasn’t sure  _ why _ . She’d intended to step directly to her father’s palace like Daniel had done with her a dozen times now, but she had missed. By a lot.

She  _ thought _ this place was called the Shifting Zones. It was a jumbled landscape of broken and forgotten dreams, constantly changing, scattered with the debris of lost hopes. Dream had told her about this place, right before telling her never to go there alone. It was dangerous even for  _ him _ .

And yet, here she was.

A loud, scratchy caw broke the windswept silence, startling Darcy. She looked up and saw a large, black bird circling overhead. For a second she thought it was Rook, but then dismissed the idea. Rook was not permitted this deep into the Dreaming. She could come and go to Loki’s skellig, but that was all.

The black bird stooped and alighted on a boulder not far ahead of Darcy. It was a raven, and a big one at that, nearly the size of an eagle. “You must be Mistress Darcy,” it said in a croaky voice. “Are you lost?”

It amused Darcy that she was no longer surprised when birds spoke to her. “A little, yes,” she admitted. “I was trying to get to the palace.”

“You’re a long way from the palace, and it’s dangerous hereabouts,” the raven told her. “Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe, then I’ll fetch m’lord to walk you home.”

Darcy clutched her cloak tighter. “Um… I don’t know who you are. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I’m Matthew, the raven,” the raven replied. “I belong to the Dream Lord.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Where are you going to take me?”

Matthew flapped his wings. “Well, the House of Mystery is closest, but I wouldn’t trust you with the brothers. Abel isn’t  _ bad _ , but Cain is…”

“I don’t want to go there,” Darcy interrupted him.

“Eve’s cave isn’t much further,” Matthew said, not commenting on her rudeness. “You’ll be safe there.”

“That’d be fine,” Darcy said with relief.

They made good time, Matthew flying ahead of her, pointing out pitfalls and hidden dangers in the treacherous terrain. Time moved strangely in the Dreaming, so Darcy wasn’t sure how long it took them to reach the cave.

Eve sat at the mouth of the cave, wrapped in a giant wool blanket, her hair blowing in the wind. She stretched out a hand as Darcy approached. “Welcome, Daughter. I have been expecting you.”

“Of course you have,” Darcy said, not surprised in the slightest. Her tolerance for weird and unexplainable had definitely increased over the last year. She took Eve’s hand and let her lead her into the cave.

Two comfortable-looking armchairs sat on either side of a cast-iron stove. Heat radiated from the stove, and a kettle sat atop, steam trickling from its spout. “You look almost frozen, child,” Eve chided. “Why did you come so far on your own?”

“I got lost,” Darcy admitted, sitting in one of the chairs. The warmth felt amazing after the blustery winds outside. “I wanted to talk to my dad.”

“Yes. Lord of Dreams. He is a busy man these days.” The kettle began to whistle, and Eve took it off the stove, pouring boiling water into two clay mugs that had not been there a moment ago. “Drink. It will do you good.”

The mug was filled with an herbal tea and reminded Darcy of cozy nights in a log cabin with snow piled up outside. “Thank you.”

“I see that  _ you _ are expecting as well,” Eve said, settling in the other chair with her own mug. 

Darcy grimaced. “Yeah. About six weeks.”

“Longer, if you spend too much time in the Dreaming,” Eve warned. “You should not come here while you are carrying a child.”

Darcy’s hand went to her stomach involuntarily. “I didn’t know that,” she said softly. “Should I leave?”

“A little while will do no further damage,” Eve said, sipping from her mug. “I sense you have questions for me.”

“I do?” Darcy asked, confused. She hadn’t even planned on speaking to Eve, much less have questions for her.

“Oh, yes, you have many,” Eve told her. “I  _ am _ the First Mother, after all.”

Darcy stopped to consider that, cradling her mug with both hands. “I guess I do have a question for you…” she said slowly. “About  _ my _ mother.” Eve nodded at her, inviting her to continue. “Lucien gave me a book on Vanir pregnancies, and it says that they are safe, that there are hardly any complications. So what happened to my mother? Why did she die?”

“Your mother didn’t die in childbirth,” Eve said simply.

Darcy stared at the woman for a long time, unable to put her thoughts into words. Dream had told her that Freyja had died in childbirth.  _ Loki _ had told her Freyja had died in childbirth. Had they lied to her?

Or were they wrong?

“Then…  _ how _ ?” Darcy finally was able to ask.

Eve tilted her head. “It is not safe for you to know that, yet, child. Your mother had enemies.  _ You _ have enemies.”

“Why would  _ I _ have enemies?” Darcy demanded. “I don’t even  _ know _ anyone. I don’t know what I’m  _ doing _ .”

“Your mother was very powerful, and very beautiful,” Eve said. “And your father loved her very much. More, I think, than any of his other lovers. It’s not often that any of the Eternals take a lover, and even rarer still that they should keep them. And to have offspring that inherited their power… you are completely unique in the universe. Your mother knew that. Your father is realizing that, I think. But it puts you in grave danger.”

“From  _ who _ ?” Darcy demanded.

Eve shrugged. “As many enemies as there are stars in the sky. There are multitudes of beings that would gladly kill you to steal your power, or to bring harm to Dream and the Dreaming, or simply because they believe you are a threat to them.”

“But I’m  _ not _ ,” Darcy protested. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Eve raised an eyebrow. “The Kree may disagree with you.”

“I  _ didn’t _ know that would happen,” Darcy snapped hotly. “I didn’t know what he would do to them.”

“And yet you unleashed the Corinthian anyway,” Eve said mildly, sipping her tea again.

“I was scared,” Darcy muttered.

“The Kree will not see it that way, and now they are forever your enemies,” Eve told her. “You must balance power with control. Without control, there is no power, only destruction.”

“I know, I  _ know _ ,” Darcy groaned. “Loki tells me that all the time.”

“Ironic. Coming from  _ him _ .”

Darcy frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Grindalokki is the God of Chaos, my dear. He thrives on destruction. He is the embodiment of power without control.”

“I thought he was the God of Mischief,” Darcy said, frowning harder.

“Did he tell you that?”

“...No.”

“The Grindalokki is an elemental, my child. He is a true force of nature. He is Ragnarok encapsulated, the walking Apocalypse. He is entropy, the true nature of matter. He is much more than simply  _ Mischief _ .”

Darcy blinked several times very quickly. “How is that possible?”

“The Universe is finite, dear daughter. It had a beginning, and it will have an end. And in order to facilitate that end, it needed a tool. So it created that tool and the Grindalokki was born.”

Darcy rubbed her stomach. “What does that mean for me? For  _ us _ ?”

“Well, it means you and he are going to live a very,  _ very _ long time. And your child is going to be very powerful. Perhaps one of the most powerful creatures in the universe. Creator help you when she gets angry.”

“ _ She _ ?” Darcy echoed weakly. She was being given too much information at once, and she could absorb all of it. There was just too much going on. “How could you  _ possibly _ know that?”

“I am the First Mother, Darcy Gersemi. I know all things about all mothers.”

“So… I’m having a girl? I mean,  _ if _ I decide to keep it, it will be a girl?”

Eve gave Darcy a knowing look. “I think you have already made your decision.”

xXx

The sun blinded Loki when he opened his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. He was back in the desert, not far from the place where Darcy had first found him injured and mute, running from the truth of who he was.

The quinjet had been shot down.

There had only been a moment’s notice, Natasha’s panicked warning that they hadan incoming, and Clint’s calmer response that he couldn’t shake it. Loki threw a hasty shield around the two Humans, his last act before the world turned to white-hot fire.

Now, laying flat on his back among the scrub brush and cacti, he took stock of his injuries. He was badly burned in a few places, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cracked his skull… again. Still, he wasn’t incopacitated. 

He struggled to his feet and summoned his armor, wincing when fabric and metal grated against burned skin. He cast around the desert and caught sight of a thick pillar of black smoke rising in the distance. He summoned Darcy’s dagger to his left hand and set off. He had not gone far when he realized he was not alone.

Yon-Rogg was not a pure-blood Kree. He was descended from mix-species parents, giving him the light skin similar to Loki’s or Darcy’s. It was only his golden eyes that visually distinguished him from a Human or an Aesir.

“You must be Loki,” Yon-Rogg said, pacing a few steps closer. His weapon was still holstered at his hip, but the Kree rested his hand on the hilt of the gun, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. “I saw you in the Terran’s memories.”

A black rage threatened to consume Loki, the pain from his burns fading into a background of pumping blood and ragged breath. He had to fight it with all his strength to maintain his senses. “I am he.”

Yon-Rogg took another step forward. “You will help me harness the Core.”

“And what would motivate me to do so?” Loki sneered.

“Because I will kill your friends if you do not,” Yon-Rogg replied as casually as if he were ordering a meal. “They were surprisingly unscathed by the crash, but they won’t be for much longer if you refuse to help me.”

“You overestimate my charity toward those Humans,” Loki replied. It was a bluff. Clint  _ was _ his friend, and he respected Natasha. He would not willingly put them in harm’s way.

“Humans have a way of… corrupting the righteous,” Yon-Rogg replied with a shrug. “They inspire a misguided loyalty in desperate people.”

“What makes you think I am desperate?” Loki asked. His strength was rapidly waning and it took all of his concentration not to sway on his feet. His armor covered most of his burns, but Yon-Rogg would have to be an imbecile not to see that he was injured, and badly so.

“As I said, I saw you in the Human girl’s memories. I saw how she rescued you. You have nowhere else to go.”

Loki laughed, long and loud, throwing his head back. Yon-Rogg thought he had Loki backed into a corner. Oh, how mistaken he was.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” Loki asked at length. Loki’s apparent mirth disturbed Yon-Rogg though he tried to hide it.

“Does it matter?” the Kree asked, his calm demeanor finally slipping. “You will help me, or the Humans will die.”

Loki bared his teeth. “I am the Grindalokki, second Prince of Asgard, son of Odin AllFather. I am the Raven and the Hungering Wolf, the Spider in His Web. I am Storm and the Chaos and He Who Calls Upon The Darkness. I am Ring-Winner and Blood-Drinker.” He flipped the obsidian dagger expertly through his fingers and held it in a reverse grip, crouching in readiness. “I will not be coerced.”

“Ah,” Yon-Rogg said regretfully. “You’re an Asgardian.” He sighed deeply. “Hala has no quarrel with Asgard, Princeling. Walk away and I give you my word no harm will come to you.”

“You have already harmed my betrothed,” Loki replied. “And the mother of my child. I demand satisfaction.”

Yon-Rogg swore under his breath. “The Terran girl? She will not be harmed, I promise you. We will bring her to you and provide you with a ship to leave this planet.”

Loki blinked. Yon-Rogg did not know that the crew of the  _ Dread Nocturne _ were dead. He had no doubt tried hailing them and had received no answer. He would be confused and perhaps worried. What Loki didn’t understand is why Yon-Rogg hadn’t simply taken the Tesseract and returned to the  _ Nocturne _ himself.

Either he  _ couldn’t _ , or he needed something.

But before Loki could act based on this realization, he was knocked off his feet again by a blaze of yellow energy that flew mere feet past his right shoulder. As he fell he saw a second, smaller blast strike Yon-Rogg in the chest, sending him tumbling off his feet.

“Hi,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “Long time, no see.”

Loki pushed himself up on one elbow, fighting past the pain screaming over his entire body. The large ball of yellow plasma faded, revealing a woman dressed in red, blue, and gold, the tips of her boots hovering a meter off the ground.

Yon-Rogg rose to his knees, wiping blood from his mouth. “Vers,” he greeted, sounding more resigned than surprised.

“Did you miss me?” the woman asked cheerfully. She raised a fist, energy glowing from between her fingers. “Stay down, Yon-Rogg. I don’t want to kill you.”

Yon-Rogg remained on his knees and raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. “What are you doing here, Vers? This has nothing to do with you.”

“This is my planet,” the woman replied. “You came here, to my planet, and started blowing shit up. You  _ really _ think this doesn’t involve me?”

“We are only here for the Core,” Yon-Rogg insisted. “It belongs to us.”

“It belongs to  _ no one _ ,” the woman insisted. “Least of all the Kree Empire. Did you give them my message?”

“Do you really think you can take on the Supreme Intelligence by yourself?” Yon-Rogg asked condescendingly. “You’re strong, Vers, but you’re not  _ that _ strong.”

“You have no idea how strong I am,” the woman replied. “Put your weapon down and surrender.”

“Oh, Vers,” Yon-Rogg said with a deep sigh. “You still have so much to learn.”

A spacecraft materialized in the air above the Kree and fired a double blast at the woman. Loki rolled onto his stomach and covered his head with his arms. There was a bright flash of light, a wave of intense heat, then silence. He looked up.

The woman was still there, except now she was  _ glowing _ . It was as if a star transformed into a Human and came down to the planet. She now wore a helm that partially covered her face, her blonde hair streaming like a banner.

“Wrong move,” the woman said flatly. She thrust both fists toward the craft, streams of plasma flowing from her body. The craft hemorrhaged flames from its side and leaned to starboard, spiraling to land hard on the desert floor. 

The light consuming the woman faded until it was gone, and she sank until her feet were squarely planted on the ground. She stalked over to Yon-Rogg, who scrambled to his feet, yanking the gun from his hip. The woman blasted it out of his hand with a directed beam of plasma.

“I gave you a chance, Yon-Rogg,” she said. “You disappointed me.” She reached the Kree and grabbed him by the front of his uniform, lifting him off his feet. “You don’t get another one.” She slammed the Kree onto the ground hard enough to crack the dry earth and leave an indentation. Yon-Rogg went limp in her grasp. She released him and left him where he lay.

Loki watched warily as the woman turned and marched back over to him. She stood for a moment, staring down at him with a quizzical expression. Then she thrust out her hand, palm open.

“Hi. I’m Carol.”


	17. Interlude At Pegasus

“I would ask if you were keeping out of trouble, but clearly you aren’t.”

Loki looked up at the familiar voice and smiled faintly. “Hello, Dr. Ogbodo,” he greeted.

The doctor’s eyes went very wide and very round. “You can  _ talk _ ?” she demanded. “How is that possible? Your tongue had been removed!”

“Alien biology,” Loki replied, and it was only half a lie. It was his ‘alien’ biology that gave him access to the magicks that allowed him to regrow organs.

Dr. Ogbodo nodded slowly. They were in the medical wing of the Pegasus Facility, the SHIELD base Coulson had first brought Loki to. It had been the closest SHIELD facility with medical capabilities needed for Loki’s injuries. Clint and Natasha had been unscathed, and Stark, who had been wearing his mechanized armor, had merely been knocked unconscious.

The doctor pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves and picked up a pair of scissors. “When I heard they were bringing you in with burns, I wasn’t sure to laugh or cry,” she told him. “Why do you always get yourself into these sorts of messes?”

“I am particularly susceptible to burn wounds, unfortunately,” Loki admitted. “I am invulnerable to most any other damage.”

“Alien biology?” Ogbodo asked, eyebrows arched.

“Indeed,” Loki agreed.

She cut away his tunic, dropping the ruined fabric carelessly on the floor. Loki had most of his wardrobe stored away in the ether, and he could always fashion more should he need it. Ogbodo clicked her tongue chidingly as she revealed the extent of his injuries.

“Not as bad as last time,” she said. “You’ll still need debriding. I see you healed from the first ones without scars. That must be handy.”

“It is.”

“These tattoos are new. I’m afraid they might not heal as well as the rest of you.”

“They will.”

“If you say so. Do you want general or local for the debriding?”

“I’m sorry?”

“General or local anesthesia. Do you want to be put under or stay awake?”

“Ah. I would prefer to stay awake.”

“It’ll hurt more,” Ogbodo warned.

Loki smiled thinly. “I am well accustomed to pain.”

Ogbodo didn’t look impressed. “Clearly.”

Footsteps outside the exam room heralded the arrival of the newcomer, the woman who introduced herself as Carol Danvers. She stopped in the doorway. “May I come in?”

Ogbodo waved her in. “Yes, but keep a distance. I want to limit his exposure to bacteria until we get these burns covered.”

“Midgarðian microbes do not affect me,” Loki assured her. “My immune system is very strong.”

“I don’t take risks, Mr. Odinson,” Ogbodo told him. “Unlike some people present.”

“You’re Asgardian,” Danvers observed. “Odinson. Aren’t those the princes?”

“Yes,” Loki said with a sigh. “I am the second son of Odin Allfather.”

“How’d you end up  _ here _ ?” Danvers asked.

Loki laughed quietly. “I will make you a trade. I will tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Danvers raised an eyebrow. “Deal.”

“All of this can wait until  _ after _ I have treated my patient,” Ogbodo interrupted with a glare at both of them. “You. Danvers. Out. I’ve got work to do.”

“Sure. I’ve got to check on our prisoner, anyway. He still hasn’t told us where the Core is. Sorry, the Tesseract.” Danvers saluted Loki with two fingers and left.

Ogbodo held up a hypodermic needle. “Hold still, please.”

xXx

Carol adapted quickly to whatever circumstance she found herself in. That had been a large part of her training on Hala. She more or less landed on her feet wherever she went, just like a cat. Speaking of which, she needed to ask Fury about Goose… It had been almost twenty years, but flerkins lived quite a bit longer than cats.

She left the medical wing and headed toward the cell where Yon-Rogg had been stashed. It was actually a reaction containment chamber, used to experiment with energy sources, but it had easily converted into a detention center. When she arrived, she found she was not the only one who thought to look in on the prisoner.

The woman was neither particularly tall nor unusually short. She had shoulder-length wavy brown hair with the left side shaved down to stubble. She wore a midnight-blue blouse, jeans, and a hooded black duster of some fabric Carol didn’t recognize.

“Doesn’t look that intimidating now, does he?” Carol asked casually, coming to stand at the observation window next to the woman.

She sneered. “They never do.”

“Carol Danvers,” Carol introduced, but didn’t offer her hand.

“Darcy Gersemi,” the woman replied. 

“You’re with SHIELD?”

“No. Technically I’m still an Air Force contractor, but I’m on a leave of absence.” She tapped an ID card on her hip. “I’m authorized, though.”

“Wanted to see the alien?”

Gersemi laughed darkly. “I don’t need to come here to see aliens.” She turned to look at Carol for the first time. She had blue eyes and sun-tanned skin. Her makeup was impeccable and there was an odd note to her features… something that Carol couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You’ve met Loki, right?” Gersemi asked. Carol nodded. “He’s my boyfriend. I was the first person he met when he came to Earth.”

“He owes me that story,” Carol said. “So if you’re not here for the zoo, what  _ are _ you here for?”

“Well, I thought about filling the chamber with halon gas,” Gersemi in an entirely too casual tone. “But then I heard he hasn’t told anyone where the Tesseract is, so I thought I could torture it out of him.”

Carol blinked, unsure if the woman was serious or not. “Torture never gives accurate results,” she pointed out.

Gersemi bared her teeth in an expression that was not at all a smile. “I know. But it would be fun.”

Carol took a discrete step away from the woman. Either she was a complete psychopath, or she had skin in the game. “Something happen between the two of you?” she asked.

“He took me to their ship and hooked me up to the Supreme Intelligence.”

Carol winced. “Oh. Yeah. That’s not fun.”

Gersemi turned and eyes Carol again, her gaze calculating. “So what’s your story?”

Carol tilted her head. “Well, Yon-Rogg and I used to be… friends, I guess. We worked together in Starforce. But I found out that he’d been lying to me about everything and that I  _ wasn’t _ Kree and the Kree were imperialistic genocidal dictators, so now I’m their worst enemy.”

“Neat,” Gersemi said with a nod. “What d’you say we go rough him up a bit?”

Carol considered the offer. She didn’t know a thing about this Gersemi woman. She didn’t know if she was trustworthy, or even authorized to interrogate Yon-Rogg. On the other hand, there wasn’t a whole lot that could get the drop on Carol, and if worse came to worst, she could put both Gersemi and Yon-Rogg down hard.

“Sure,” she said.

The woman’s badge opened the containment chamber, which reassured Carol, and the two women stepped into the cell.

“Hello Vers,” Yon-Rogg said.

“Carol,” she corrected.

“What?” Yon-Rogg asked, frowning.

“My name is Carol Danvers,” Carol said. “You can call me Carol.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I like ‘Vers’ better.”

“That’s not my name,” Carol replied mildly.

“It is to me,” Yon-Rogg said softly.

“Not to interrupt this  _ touching _ reunion,” Gersemi said dryly. “But I have some questions for you.”

Yon-Rogg turned his gaze to Gersemi. “I have nothing to say to you, Human girl,” he said coldly.

“You’re wrong about that,” Gersemi had, raising her hand. Green flames edged with a strange darkness licked her fingers. “And here’s why: A, not Human. B, you’ve got plenty to tell me. And you will, or I’ll burn your body parts off, starting with the most sensitive ones.”

“Easy now, Gersemi,” Carol said, reaching out to gently take the other woman’s elbow. “Remember what I said about torture? Yon-Rogg is an Accuser. He’ll die before he breaks.”

“Have you been tortured by the Supreme Intelligence before?” Gersemi spat at her.

“Not as such, no,” Carol admitted.

“It can make hours feel like years,” Gersemi growled. “ _ Years _ of watching my mother cut my baby brother to pieces.  _ Years _ of my boyfriend walking out on me and our baby.” She clenched her fist, the fire vanishing. “It couldn’t ever get past my surface memories, and that pissed it off. So it didn’t ask me any questions. It just made me  _ hurt _ .”

“How is that possible?” Carol demanded. “The Supreme Intelligence gets through  _ everyone _ .”

“Benefits of being the Goddess of Secrets, I guess,” Gersemi replied shortly. She turned back to Yon-Rogg. “Do you wanna know why you haven’t been getting any response from your ship? You wanna know why no one is answering you?”

For the first time, Yon-Rogg looked nervous.

“They’re all dead,” Gersemi told him. “I unleashed a nightmare on them and they all killed themselves to escape it.”

“That’s not possible,” Yon-Rogg said flatly. “They are Kree. A simple nightmare would not break them.”

“He’s not just a simple nightmare,” Gersemi replied with a shark’s smile. “Would you like to meet him? I can introduce you.” She stared off into the distance, eyes focused on something only she could see, and twisted the ring on her right hand. “Corinthian, I summon you.”

Carol looked around, deeply disturbed but unsure if she should interfere. Nothing happened. Gersemi blinked, and then her focus changed to something in front of her, but there was nothing there that Carol could see.

“I need information from this man,” Gersemi said to thin air. “I need to know where the Tesseract is. And I need him in one piece.” She paused. “Thank you.” Then she turned to Carol. “We should probably leave before it starts.”

“Before what starts?” Carol asked uneasily.

Gersemi was already heading for the door. “The screaming.”

“No!” Yon-Rogg suddenly shouted. “ _ No! _ Please! NO!”

Carol turned toward her former commanding officer, alarmed. His golden eyes were glazed over and he struggled against the cuffs binding his hands.

“No!” he screamed again. “ _ No! _ ”

Gersemi backtracked and grabbed Carol’s arms, pulling her away with surprising strength. “It won’t last long,” she said, as if that would reassure Carol. “The Corinthian is very effective.”

“What did you  _ do _ ?” Carol demanded. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I gave him a nightmare. The Corinthian will interrogate him, and then he’ll leave. I’ve made sure he won’t be physically harmed.”

“But there’s nothing  _ there _ ,” Carol protested.

“That  _ we _ can see,” Gersemi replied.

“Are you psychic or something?” Carol pulled her arm from Gersemi’s grasp, refusing to leave Yon-Rogg. He was her enemy  _ now _ , but he hadn’t always been, and she owed him at least  _ some _ respect.

“Not in the slightest,” Gersemi said dryly. “I’ll tell you everything, but can we  _ please _ get out of here? I  _ don't _ need to see the Corinthian working, thank you very much. Already did plenty of that.”

Carol sent one last look at Yon-Rogg, locked in some nightmare only he could see. Then she followed Gersemi out of the cell. “Okay, what the  _ hell _ is going on?”

Gersemi took a deep breath. “My mother was Vanir, a very powerful witch named Freyja. My father is Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams.”

Carol waited for further explanation but none was forthcoming. “What do you mean, the Lord of Dreams?”

The other woman sighed heavily. “Okay. Great. Um… So he’s the anthropomorphic personification of dreaming and the dream state. He’s one of six eternals that govern fundamental states of existence.”

Something finally clicked for Carol. “You mean L’Zoril. Your  _ father _ is L’Zoril?”

“Maybe?” Gersemi looked uncertain. “I don’t recognize the name.”

“L’Zoril is the Skrull God of Dreams and Nightmares,” Carol explained, stunned. “I had no idea he was  _ real _ .”

“Yeah, kinda. And he’s my dad,” Gersemi said with a weak smile. She waved limply. “Hi. I’m a demigoddess. Only known for about six months. Still trying to figure things out.”

Carol swore in three separate Kree dialects. 

“What. The  _ hell _ . Is going on here?”

Both women turned to find a middle-aged man in a black suit standing in the doorway. Behind him was a second man with sandy blonde hair and a terminal case of Resting Bitch Face.

Carol pointed at the man in the suit. “I remember you,” she said.

“Agent Coulson,” the man introduced shortly. “This is Agent Barton. What did you do to my prisoner?”

“Getting him to talk,” Gersemi said casually, shoving her hands into the pockets of her duster. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Barton circled the women and looked through the observation window. “ _ Jesus _ , Darcy. What is going on with him?”

She bounced on her toes. “Gave him a nightmare.”

“He’s screaming bloody murder,” Barton pointed out.

“It’s a really bad nightmare.”

“And that’s a thing you can do now? Give people nightmares?” Barton demanded.

Gersemi shrugged. “Among other things.” The screaming abruptly stopped and she blinked, her eyes focusing again on something that wasn’t there. She nodded once. “I know where the Tesseract is. Do you wanna know or not?”

Coulson considered that for a long moment. He narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

xXx

Loki was struggling to put his shirt on when Darcy appeared in the doorway. The bandages on his shoulder prevented him from extending his right arm fully and made it difficult for him to pull the tunic over his head. He wasn’t otherwise worried, as he was left-handed.

“Need some help?”

He pulled the tunic down from his face and glared at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re okay?” she said slowly. “I’m allowed to do that, right?”

“ _ How _ did you get here?”

“Through the Dreaming.”

“Alone?”

“No. Matthew the Raven and Eve walked with me. What’s with all the questions? I can take care of myself, you know.”

Loki sighed. It had not been his intention to start a disagreement. He was irritable with pain from the burns and he was not skillful at reigning in his temper when he was hurting.

“I would gladly accept assistance,” he said, holding his tunic out to Darcy. She laughed and took it from him, bunching it up in her hands so she could slip his head through. She helped him get his arms through the sleeves and tugged the tunic into place.

“How bad is it?” Darcy asked softly, tracing the embroidery on the yoke of the tunic with one finger. “That was a lot of bandages.”

He caught her hand and turned it over to place a kiss on the palm. “The burns are not deep,” he assured her. “They will heal quickly.”

She nodded, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you. About… um… you know.” She put her hand on her flat stomach.

His grip on her other hand tightened involuntarily. “You wish to discuss this now?”

She gave him an impatient look. “Yeah, babe. It’s kinda important.”

Loki blinked. “Why do you call me that?”

“What? ‘Babe’? It’s a term of endearment.” Darcy squeezed his hand. “Don’t distract me. We need to have this conversation.”

“You have my full attention,” Loki told her, though in the back of his mind he was amused and… flattered? that she would use such a term for him.

“It’s a girl,” Darcy said without further preamble. “And I’m keeping it. I mean, if you want to, too. I  _ want _ to keep it, but this has to be your decision as well.”

For the first time in his life, Loki’s mind was completely blank. A girl. A  _ daughter _ . He was going to have a  _ daughter _ with the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry.

He was going to be a  _ father _ .

  
Loki suddenly pushed upright. He wanted to run, to tell…  _ someone _ … that he was going to be a  _ father _ . But his injuries must have been worse than he expected, because blood rushed to his head with a roar. He passed out still on his feet and fell face-first onto the floor.


	18. Consequences of Actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sweets!
> 
> All of the books that were ordered have been shipped out. You can still order a book of your own by going to the link in my profile.
> 
> Also, would anyone be interested if we did a similar printing for The Yggdrasil Chronicles?

Loki winced as Darcy gently dabbed  _ mjorga _ onto the vibrant red marking that circled around from his cheekbone to his orbital bone. She made a face at him.

“You’ll be lucky if this doesn’t bruise,” she told him. “Otherwise you’re gonna have a hell of a shiner.”

“I will be fine,” Loki muttered.

She giggled. “You passed out. Who does that outside of movies?”

“I am injured and I stood too quickly,” Loki replied stiffly.

Darcy laughed again. “You fainted. I told you we were having a girl and you fainted.”

“How did you discover it is a girl?” Loki asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Eve told me. She told me quite a few things.” Darcy finished treating the injury and handed him back the nearly half-empty pot. “She told me that Freyja  _ didn’t _ die in childbirth.”

The expression on Loki’s face eliminated any doubt she had about him lying to her. He looked stricken, distraught.

“Then…  _ how _ ?” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

“She wouldn’t tell me,” Darcy complained. “She said it was too dangerous for me to know right now. Freyja had a lot of enemies, apparently, and any of them would be happy to take me out of the equation.”

Loki reached out and grabbed her arms, tugging her close to him. “I will  _ never _ let that happen,” he growled. “I will burn the Nine Realms down to ashes before I let  _ anything _ happen to my intended.”

Darcy leaned forward and kissed his nose. He blinked, caught off-guard by the incongruous gesture. “That’s sweet, babe, but you don’t need to. I’m pretty sure the Eternals side of my family won’t let anything happen to me.”

He tightened his grip on her arms, fingers pressing into her skin. “We still need to discuss what happened on board the  _ Nocturne _ ,” he said.

Darcy would rather not discuss that now, or ever, and instead grasped at his strange wording. “Intended what?”

He blinked at her again. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m your intended  _ what _ ?” Darcy repeated.

He gave her a look that said he thought her question strange and unnecessary. “My intended bride, of course,” he replied slowly, as if he was telling her something she should already know.

His intended  _ what _ ?!

Darcy opened her mouth to demand clarification, because he couldn’t just throw that at her like this and not expect for her to react in  _ some _ manner, but then Stark appeared in the doorway.

“Yo, ET. Fury wants us to gear up. We have a location for the glowing cube of destiny and he wants it back, ASAP. Oh, hey Baywatch. Nice work with the prisoner. Whatever you did, he’s still pretty messed up. I still think you’re scary as hell and should have some sort of baby monitor, but good job. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

He was gone as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Loki and Darcy staring at each other warily.

“What did you do to the Kree?” Loki demanded.

Darcy didn’t like his tone. She crossed her arms. “I asked the Corinthian to ask him where the Tesseract is,” she said defensively.

She wasn’t sure, but Loki might have gone pale at that. It was hard to tell; he was already so pale. “The Corinthian?” he echoed weakly. “Is that who you unleashed on the  _ Nocturne _ ?”

“Yes,” was Darcy’s sullen reply.

Loki made a strange gesture with his left hand. “Three In One be kind to us and shield us from the Augrífa,” he muttered under his breath.

“What are you doing?” Darcy demanded.

“Calling upon the Norns for protection,” Loki snapped. “You released a monster and called his notice upon you.”

“He works for my dad,” Darcy protested. “He obeys my orders.”

“ _ Your _ orders.” Loki rose to his feet. His armor appeared with a wash of green-gold light. “But no one else’s. And I have attracted his attention once before. I do not wish to be his plaything again.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ? What is that supposed to mean?”

“We will have to discuss this later,” Loki said brusquely, waving a hand dismissively. “Stay  _ here _ . Do not go into the Dreaming and do  _ not _ summon the Augrífa.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Darcy yelled after him, but he was already out of sight down the hallway. Darcy resisted the urge to pout.

This was going to be one  _ hell _ of a conversation.

xXx

With Loki gone and her instructions quite clear, Darcy found herself at odd ends. She had nothing to do but wander aimlessly around the Pegasus facility. She had swiped Loki’s badge before he left Manhattan, but she’d already used it to get into Yon-Rogg’s cell. She was worried that if she attempted to use it again, she’d get caught.

In the end, she found an empty conference room and spread her books on the Greensong over the table. She might as well do some practicing while she waited for Loki to get back, so he could explain what the  _ fuck _ he meant when he called her his “intended bride.” Because that was an entire conversation she had apparently missed.

Darcy opened up a book at random, her eye falling on a section about scrying. There were several forms of scrying. One allowed you to see events in the past or future. Another kind allowed you to see events occuring in the present. And the third kind allowed you to speak to someone, usually a close friend or family member, from a great distance. All three forms required a mirror.

Darcy reached into the inner pocket of her hooded duster. Eve had helped her make it out of the cloak Dream had given her. Apparently the cloak was capable of taking whatever shape she desired, up to and including actual clothing, which is why Dream rarely changed from his threadbare black t-shirt and black jeans. They were formed out of his cloak.

Items had a tendency to appear randomly in the pocket of the cloak. First it had been the miniature sigils of the Eternals, allowing her to call upon them whenever she wished. Then the dagger, and, only a few days ago, an obsidian mirror.

The mirror was small, only about the size of Darcy’s palm, without a handle. It hung from a knotted leather cord strung through a small hole drilled through the top of the mirror. It was otherwise unadorned.

Darcy cradled the mirror in both hands and concentrated, whispering the words of the spell, picturing them in her mind. Indistinct shadows seemed to swirl in the depths of the mirror, but all that she could see was her reflection staring back at her.

Perhaps Vanaheimr was too far. Something closer, then.

She held an image of Loki in her mind; picturing the tattoos on his left arm, the way his hair fell in glossy waves to his shoulders, his thin upper lip and much fuller lower one. She remembered the way he smelled of fresh snow, balsam, and bayberry. She conjured the taste of his skin, salty and slightly musky from sex.

The shadows in the mirror solidified for a moment, showing an image of Loki standing in the hold of a quinjet, holding onto a handle dangling from the ceiling. He looked nervous and fidgety, but the moment the image became clear, he turned and looked directly at Darcy as if he could see her through the mirror.

_ Not now _ , he signed with one hand, and the image dissolved once more into shadows.

Darcy whooped in victory. Not only had she successfully used the mirror for scrying, but she and Loki had a unique way of communicating through the mirror. He had sensed her watching him and used ASL to talk to her.

Magick was so fucking  _ cool _ .

The door to the conference room opened, and Darcy instinctively shoved the mirror into the pocket of her duster, as if hiding a guilty secret. Coulson walked in and closed the door behind him.

“So what’s this I hear about you blowing up a police car in Los Angeles?” he asked in his customarily mild tone.

“Technically I  _ obliterated _ it,” Darcy corrected. “And it was mostly an accident.”

“Mostly?” Coulson echoed, raising his eyebrows.

“Look, my crazy ex had just started stalking me, and he called the police on Loki because Loki told him to leave in a… not polite way. We were in the middle of a family argument when the police showed up, and I reacted.” She paused a moment. “Badly,” she added sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to obliterate the car. It just… happened.”

Coulson sat in the chair opposite her. “Sounds like you’ve been busy over the last few months.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed with a sigh.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

Darcy eyed Coulson suspiciously. “You’re not actually giving me a choice, are you?”

He smiled faintly. “No, but it sounds better if I ask you instead of demanding. People tend to react better to that.”

“Well, I figured out why I have superpowers,” Darcy said dryly.

“Oh?”

“I’m an alien.” It still felt surreal to say that out loud, as if she was talking about someone else, some other version of herself.

“Is that so?” Coulson asked neutrally, his expression not changing.

“My mother was from a planet called Vanaheimr,” Darcy explained. She felt like she was just repeating the same story over and over again and she wished she could tell everyone important to her all at the same time and then never tell it again. “She died when I was born. My biological father’s sibling took me and gave me to Gertrude to raise, so I didn’t know I was anything other than Human until, well,  _ recently _ .”

“And your father?” Coulson asked. “Is he from Vanaheimr as well?”

“No,” Darcy said. “He’s the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and the dreamscape.”

Coulson blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s… a long story. And complicated. Let’s just say my father is a very, very powerful immortal entity who had no idea I survived my birth. He thought I died along with my mother, which is why he never looked for me.”

“I see,” Coulson rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Speaking of births, are you really pregnant?”

“What does  _ that _ have to do with anything?” Darcy demanded, bristling.

“Very little,” Coulson admitted. “But Clint has been after me for the last three hours about a baby shower and I wanted to make sure.”

“Clint wants to throw me a baby shower?” Darcy asked in disbelief.

“Clint loves babies,” Coulson said, rolling his eyes. “One of these days he’s going to come home with one and I’ll have no idea where he got it from.”

Darcy blinked several times in quick succession. “Are you two… you know… together?”

“Yes, thanks for noticing,” Coulson said with a dry smile. “Have been for going on ten years. SHIELD doesn’t make it easy, but we’ve made it work. Somehow. Anyway, you’d better tell Clint if you  _ want _ a shower or not. Otherwise he’ll rent a bounce house and get you six piñatas. That man  _ loves _ piñatas.”

Darcy laughed involuntarily. “Okay. Thanks for the head’s up.”

The lights overhead abruptly switched to red and a warning klaxon shattered the base’s calm. Coulson was on his feet in a flash, already heading for the door. 

“Dispatch, what’s going on?” he demanded out loud. “He’s  _ what _ ?”

“What is it?” Darcy yelled over the sound of the alarm.

“Prisoner’s escaped,” Coulson yelled back. “Power to the building’s been cut. Stay here!” and with that he was gone.

“Stay here my ass,” Darcy muttered, yanking the door back open. SHIELD agents in full body armour jogged by, weapons held at the ready.

“Get back in the room and lock the door, ma’am,” the last one yelled at Darcy, putting his hand on her shoulder and pushing her backwards. “All civilians need to stay out of the way!”

Darcy stepped backwards to avoid being pushed off her feet and closed the door down to a crack, waiting for the agents to turn the corner. Then she headed in the opposite direction. She wasn’t going to let Yon-Rogg get away. Not after he turned her over to the Supreme Intelligence.

It had been almost two full days since Daniel had collected Darcy from the  _ Dread Nocturne _ , and she had not dared to sleep since then. She might be the daughter of the Lord of Dreams, but she could still have nightmares. She thought she would be more tired, but instead she felt wired, more alert and attentive than she had ever been in her life.

She crept down the hallway toward the containment chamber Yon-Rogg had been locked in. She had no plan, no weapon, and no idea what she was doing. But she knew she couldn’t just sit around on her ass while Yon-Rogg escaped.

She made the last turn into the corridor that led to the containment chamber. As she crept toward the door, a crash behind her made her spin around.

Yon-Rogg stood in the hallway behind her, lurching toward her with unsteady steps. He had deep, bloody gouges starting from his eyebrows running down his cheeks. He’d tried to scratch out his own eyes, Darcy realized.

“You,” he hissed at her. “You did this to me.” He stalked toward her, hands outstretched and twitching. “You made me  _ see _ . Take it away. Take it away!”

Darcy backed away from him, her own hands held out like she could hold him off with sheer will. “I--I can’t. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Take. Away. The nightmare,” Yon-Rogg growled, and lunged at her.

She stumbled and fell backwards, landing painfully on her ass. Yon-Rogg dropped to the floor and crawled toward her, backing her up against the wall. He shoved his knee into her groin, pinning her in place.

“Get him away from me,” the Kree demanded hoarsely. “Take the nightmare away.”

“I can’t,” Darcy gasped. “I thought I did.”

Yon-Rogg dragged his fingernails down his face, carving new bloody scrapes in his skin. “He’s still with me,” he whispered. “I still see him.”

Darcy’s heart raced, her mind screaming with fear. Even when Gertrude stood over her with a boxcutter, she knew what she was going to do and how, and where her taser was hidden.

But now, she had nothing.

Yon-Rogg grabbed her around the throat with both hands, smearing blood on her neck and blouse. Darcy clawed at Yon-Rogg’s fingers, peeling one of his fingers back until the bone snapped. He didn’t even flinch.

Dark spots began to swim in her eyes as she gasped unsuccessfully for air. She couldn’t order her thoughts enough to perform a spell. She was going to die. Yon-Rogg was going to kill her.

Her  _ daughter _ was going to die.

A blast of pure energy burst forth from the depths of her chest, sending Yon-Rogg flying backwards. She gasped in the first breath of air in what felt like hours. She pressed one hand to her throat, feeling the heat of injured skin and muscles.

Yon-Rogg weakly lifted himself up, staggered to his feet, and lurched toward Darcy again. “Take him away,” he moaned. “Take him away… or… I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and take him away.”

Darcy tried to scream, tried to cry out for help, but nothing more than a breathless rasp escaped her throat. Yon-Rogg crouched over her again, bloody hands reaching for her.

Loki appeared behind Yon-Rogg as if from thin air and plunged the obsidian dagger into his back. Yon-Rogg gasped and then choked, spraying blood into Darcy’s face. Loki caught him before he could collapse forward, throwing him down onto his back where he lay still, unmoving.

Loki knelt beside Darcy and gathered her into his arms. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I have you.”

Darcy wept then, uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face and causing her already-damaged throat to swell further.

“Nothing will ever happen to you,” Loki whispered in her ear. “I promise, my love. I will never let anyone hurt you, ever again. Do you hear me?”

Darcy nodded against the front of his tunic, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

“I love you,” Loki said, and sounded almost surprised by it. “You and our daughter. I love you both.”


	19. The Price of Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Look at me; back to back updates!
> 
> Again, if anyone is interested in printed copies of The Yggdrasil Chronicles, Traxus_IV and I are working on editing This Is Gospel. I've learned a lot from printing A Profound Silence, so this should go a lot smoother!

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Dr. Ogbodo admonished gently as she prepared a hypodermic needle.

Darcy nodded miserably. Bruises had already started to form on her throat, stripes of bright red beginning to darken to purple. It hurt to speak, or swallow, or even breathe.

Clint lounged against the doorframe, watching while Dr. Ogbodo injected her with the anti-inflammatory. They had just returned from retrieving the Tesseract from where Yon-Rogg had hidden it when the Kree had managed to escape. Clint told Darcy that Loki had left the quinjet so quickly it was almost as if he had vanished into thin air.

Now Loki was off overseeing the installation of the Tesseract back into the containment machine that had been left behind when it was moved to Cheyenne Mountain. Clint had agreed to babysit until Loki was finished.

“This will help with the swelling,” Dr. Ogbodo told Darcy. “But you need to take the pills I gave you. All of them. That will keep your throat from closing up again. Okay?”

Darcy nodded again and rattled the pill bottle in her hand. Dr. Ogbodo gave her a sympathetic look. “Get some rest, sweetheart. You look exhausted.”

Darcy didn’t reply. She signed  _ thank you _ and slid off the examination bed, sliding the pills into the inner pocket of her duster. It vanished from her hand but would reappear whenever she wanted it.

“You okay, kiddo?” Clint asked softly.

_ Okay _ , Darcy signed back.  _ Tired _ .

“You’ve had a crazy couple of days,” Clint admitted. “Come on. I’ll show you where you can bunk until it’s time for you to head out.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, then Darcy asked,  _ T A L O S. Safe? Bring back? _

Clint nodded. “Captain Danvers brought him back a couple of hours ago. They’re trying to decide what to do with the  _ Dread Nocturne _ . Danvers and Talos want to blow it up. Fury wants to study it. They’ve been going at it for 30 minutes.”

Darcy glowered.  _ Destroy it _ , she signed.  _ Not boat. Graveyard. _

“Talos did say it was pretty bad up there,” Clint commented. “Didn’t go into detail, though.”

They fell into silence again, their familiarity keeping it from being strained. They reached a door without an electronic lock and Clint opened it, gesturing for Darcy to enter.

The room was long and narrow, lined on both sides by twin beds, each neatly made up.

“This is dayshift’s bunk room,” Clint explained. “They won’t be using it until 2200. You can nap here until it’s time to go.”

_ Thank you _ , Darcy told him. She curled up on the bed closest to the door, pulling her duster over to cover herself. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep; she was still afraid to dream. But she was still unconscious within seconds.

She found herself in her father’s palace, standing in an unfamiliar corridor. The hallway stretched out to eternity, doors placed along the walls at perfectly equal intervals. Between the doors were tall windows, sunlight flooding in from both sides.

Darcy stepped over to the closest window and looked out. The landscape was… indistinct. Darcy got an impression of mountains in the distance and clouds overhead, but the ground was made of a starry, midnight sky.

“ **Daughter. Are you well** ?”

Darcy looked up. Dream stood beside her, studying her with his strange, empty eyes, the stars in their depths shining silver.

“No,” Darcy admitted. “I’m really not.”

A salt-white hand emerged from the depths of Dream’s cloak, and he rested it on Darcy’s shoulder. He didn’t initiate a great deal of contact with his children. Darcy knew this was as sincere an attempt to comfort her as her father was capable. 

“ **Do you wish to speak of it** ?” he asked softly.

Darcy took a deep breath. “I used the Corinthian again. I needed information from Yon-Rogg, so I told the Corinthian to interrogate him.”

Dream remained silent, waiting for her to go on.

“It did… things to him. He went crazy. He tried to kill me.”

Dream’s hand on her shoulder tightened. “ **Where is he now** ?” His voice was low and dangerous.

“Dead,” Darcy replied flatly. “Loki killed him.”

Dream considered her words for a long time. “ **The Corinthian is a dangerous tool** ,” he said at length. “ **He is effective, but his success comes at a price** .”

“Yeah. I think I learned that the hard way,” Darcy muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t think I’ll be using him ever again.”

“ **I can show you how to construct nightmares of your own** ,” Dream offered.

Darcy jerked her head back to stare at her father. “I can really do that?” she demanded.

Dream tilted his head. “ **I do not see why not. Daniel can. I imagine you are able to as well.** ”

Darcy nodded. “I think I’d like that. Maybe not one so… scary.”

“ **The Corinthian is only as effective as his purpose allows him to be** .”

“Why would you make something like him?” Darcy asked. “He’s so horrible.”

Dream’s gaze wandered to the landscape outside the window. “ **I had need of a monster at the time** ,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Darcy hunched her shoulders. “You wanna talk about it?”

Dream looked down at her again. “ **No. Not yet. Someday, though, you will need to hear the story** .”

Darcy fidgeted for a moment, then blurted, “Did you know Freyja didn’t die from childbirth?”

Dream… blinked. She could recall ever seeing him do that. His eyes were as steady and undimmed as true stars. Twinkling, perhaps, but never blinking.

“ **Who… who told you this** ?” he demanded.

“Eve. And she wouldn’t tell me anything else,” Darcy complained. “Just that Freyja had enemies, and that they were my enemies now.”

“ **Freyja told me she was… concerned… about your birth** ,” Dream mused, rubbing his chin. “ **She said there were forces at play she could not see** .”

“Did she say anything else?” Darcy asked. “Anything that might explain why she died?”

“ **No** ,” Dream replied flatly. “ **She left my palace before she was due to give birth and hid her presence from me. I did not find her again until after she had** …” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Will you  _ please _ just tell me what you know?” Darcy exclaimed. “I keep getting pieces from different people but I can’t see the whole picture and it’s driving me crazy!”

Dream sighed deeply. “ **You are right. I should have told you all of this long ago. Come with me** .” He moved them through the palace to the library, where an old, well-worn wooden desk sat by a sunny window. There were two chairs. Dream sat in one and Darcy took the other.

“ **I met your mother almost two hundred years ago** ,” Dream told her. “ **She was a powerful witch, a leader of the Greencoven. Nerþuz was grooming her to become the next Greenmother.** ”

“Nerþuz,” Darcy repeated. “That’s my grandmother’s name?”

“ **Yes** ,” Dream said. “ **Freyja was her only child, so it was natural she wished to pass the mantle on to her. But Freyja had no desire to become the Greenmother. She had a wild and curious spirit. I think that attracted me to her** .”

“Everyone says that,” Darcy muttered. Her hands were too restless to stay still, so she coiled a strand of hair around her finger, over and over until the lock stayed curled when Darcy pulled her hand free.

“ **Freyja asked me to give her shelter from her mother, to allow her to live in the Dreaming. I granted it, of course. I could not deny her anything she wished** .”

“ **Nerþuz tried many times to force her daughter to return** ,” Dream continued. “ **All of them failed** .”

“Do you think my grandmother had something to do with Freyja’s death?” Darcy demanded.

Dream shook his head. “ **Nerþuz demands respect and obedience from all the Greenchildren, but she loved her daughter dearly. I don’t think she would deliberately cause Freyja harm** .”

“Then who killed Freyja?” Darcy asked impatiently.

“ **Freyja was very powerful, and there were many who were jealous of her** ,” Dream said. “ **There were two that I remember particularly. Both had been cast out of the Greencoven for misusing their magicks.** ”

“What were their names?” Darcy leaned forward eagerly. Dream frowned at her.

“ **I would not advise seeking them out, Daughter** ,” he warned. “ **They have abilities far beyond you at the moment. They will hurt you** .”

“I won’t,” Darcy promised. “I just want to know who they are.”

“ **Amora and her sister Lorelei** ,” Dream replied. “ **I do not know what became of them** .”

Darcy filed the names away for later, when she could interrogate Loki about them. She surprised herself by yawning cavernously. Dream gave her a disapproving look.

“ **You are tired, Daughter. You must sleep. Even the Endless grow weary and rest** .”

“I was afraid I’d have nightmares,” Darcy admitted, realizing only now how ridiculous that sounded.

Dream reached out and touched two fingers to Darcy’s forehead. “ **Only sweet dreams for you tonight, Daughter** ,” he said gently. “ **Sleep well** .”

The library dissolved into nothingness around her and Darcy floated for a long time, half-remembered images of soft, pink clouds and singing birds wandering through her head. 

She slept, and she dreamed.

xXx

Loki slipped into the bunkroom, his keen eyesight allowing him to see in pitch-blackness. Darcy lay curled atop the blankets of the nearest bed, covered by her curiously-fashioned duster. Upon closer examination, he realized it was made of the same fabric of her dream-cloak. In fact, he would wager it was the same garment.

She was fast asleep, and peacefully so, her breathing soft and even, eyes flickering back and forth under their lids. She did not rouse when he touched her shoulder, nor when he shook her gently.

He straightened with a frown. Dr Ogbodo had not mentioned giving Darcy any sleeping medication. He was not  _ terribly _ concerned. No harm would come to Darcy in her sleep. Lord Draumr would not allow it, and she seemed to be resting well.

It was his intention to take her away from this place, even away from Midgarðr, to give her time to recover safely where they could discuss and prepare for the future.

They were going to have a child. A  _ daughter _ . He felt exultant and terrified and wildly unprepared. He had no experience as a father. All he knew is that he had  _ no _ desire to be the kind of father that Odin had been for him. He supposed that was at least a starting point.

He did not wish to take Darcy anywhere without her permission. The last time he had done that had not ended well. Loki did not want to incur her wrath again, not when she had access to the Augrífa.

“Darcy,” he called softly, shaking her again. She heaved a deep sigh and opened her eyes, blinking in the light from the hallway.

“Mmm… what time ‘s it?” she muttered.

Loki consulted his watch. He could feel the turn of the planet beneath him and sense the journey of the stars overhead, but the strange manner of keeping time the Midgarðians used still escaped him.

“Eleven thirty in the evening,” he replied.

Darcy pushed herself upright, eyes widening. A single lock of hair on the side of her face had been twisted until it coiled tightly. “I slept for  _ seven _ hours?” she demanded.

“It appears that way.”

She groaned and rubbed a hand down her face. “I talked to my dad.”

“What about?”

“I’ll tell you later. Is it time to go?”

“Yes. Coulson has granted me a leave of absence for two weeks. He suggested we ‘get out of town’ for a while.”

“Where do you want to go?” Darcy got wobbily to her feet and stretched unsteadily. “Back to LA?”

“I was hoping a little further,” Loki said, taking Darcy’s hand and pulling her against him. He leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “I thought perhaps the Waystation might be acceptable.”

Darcy shifted in his arms. “You want to go to Vanaheimr?”

“I want to leave Midgarðr,” Loki corrected. “The Waystation is the only place I know we will not be discovered.”

She nodded. “Okay. I kinda like that place. I didn’t get the chance to really appreciate it the last time we were there.”

“We can leave now, if you are ready.”

Darcy shook her head and pushed away from him. “I want to call Mom first, let her know we will be out of reach.”

Loki offered his own cell phone for her to use, and she punched in the number by memory. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Yeah, it’s okay. Everything’s fine. I’m back with SHIELD. Well, sort of. I just wanted to let you know that Loki and I are going…  _ away _ for a couple of weeks and we won’t have cell service.  _ Yes _ , I’m fine. I promise. I’ll call when we get back. I love you. Tell Jesse I love him, too. Bye.”

She handed the phone back. “So. How do we get there?”

xXx

Darcy had  _ intended  _ to ask Loki about the whole “intended bride” thing as soon as they were at the Waystation. She’d  _ intended _ to demand he tell her everything he knew about Amora and Lorelei. That’s what she had  _ intended _ to do.

But what she’d  _ intended _ and what actually  _ happened _ were two very different things.

The Waystation was not a lofty palace. It was hardly even a mansion. It was a comfortably-sized chateau built halfway up a cliff face on a small island about three miles off the coast of a continent in the southern hemisphere of Vanaheimr. The black sand beaches reminded her of Iceland, not that she’d ever been, but the red water was entirely new.

Darcy had not paid much attention to it the first time she’d been there, spending most of her time being righteously indignant. But now she had the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the safe house.

The first room she explored was the master’s suite, marveling at the expansive bed and the walk-out terrace that overlooked the beach below. From there she discovered the bathroom, and didn’t get any further.

The sheer size of the bathtub made her almost fall over with excitement. It was basically a giant, round, marble hot tub sunk into the floor of the chamber, and she insisted on using it right away.

She wrapped herself in a silk kimono-style robe while she waited for the tub to fill with scented water. She looked up when she heard footsteps and found Loki in the doorway. He was completely nude. 

“May I join you?” he asked, and the expression on his face made Darcy blush bright red.

“Um,  _ yes _ ,” Darcy told him. “Please do. I’m pretty sure I need a lifeguard for this thing.”

He prowled forward to her, catching her with one arm around her waist and capturing her mouth with his.

Darcy’s brain blanked out for the next few moments, erasing all of the questions she had wanted to ask. Loki pulled the knot tying her robe loose, pushing it back off her shoulders to pool on the floor around her feet.

After that, Darcy remained distracted for the rest of the evening. It was only later, as the sun sent its first rays of light over the horizon that Darcy finally asked the question that had been plaguing her for the last day or so.

“Loki?” she asked softly. She lay with her head pillowed on her shoulder, tracing the tattoos on his chest with one finger.

“Mmm?” he rumbled sleepily, and rubbed her back.

“Are we engaged?”

“Mmm. Yes. Why are you asking?”

Darcy absorbed that for a moment. “Uh… exactly  _ when _ did that occur?”

Loki opened his eyes and looked down at her. “You don’t remember?” he asked in disbelief.

“I didn’t realize it had happened,” she retorted.

Loki blinked three times, slowly. “You put the cup in my hand and bid me drink,” he told her, clearly confused.

  
Well,  _ shit _ . It  _ had _ been part of a wedding ceremony after all.


	20. Lost In Translation

For a long minute Darcy wondered if she should be angry. Part of her thought she should be angry. After all, Loki had thought they were  _ engaged _ for  _ months _ without saying a word.

On the other hand, they  _ literally  _ came from different planets.

So instead she sighed heavily and pressed her face into Loki’s shoulder for a moment.

“What is it?” he demanded, sounding more awake. “What is wrong?”

“That’s not how we propose on earth,” Darcy told him, her voice muffled.

His arm tightened around her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, at  _ some _ point in history I think that was an accepted proposal,” Darcy explained, lifting her head so she could look at his face. He looked confused and… slightly distraught? Darcy wasn’t certain. Loki’s face was hard to read at the best of times.

“Nowadays we use engagement rings,” she went on. “Usually, in straight couples, the man will give the woman a ring when he asks her to marry him, but there’s really no hard and fast rules. All that’s really consistent is that there’s a ring.”

“You… didn’t know?” Loki asked in a low voice. “You didn’t know what the shared cup meant?”

Darcy shook her head.

Loki abruptly rolled away from her, leaving her to flop face-first onto the mattress. When she pushed herself up onto her elbows, Loki was standing on the terrace, hands braced on the top of the railing. He seemed uncaring that he was still unclothed, or that there was a chill, salty breeze blowing in from the ocean.

Darcy slid out of the bed, picking up her duster from the floor and wrapping it around her. When she joined Loki on the terrace, he turned his head away from her, fists clenched.

“Loki, I’m sorry,” she said softly, putting her hand on his arm. He neither flinched nor pulled away, so she felt encouraged. “I didn’t realize what that meant to you.”

“So there is nothing between us,” he said hollowly. “No promise to bind us together.”

“What are you talking about?” Darcy demanded. “We’re having a  _ baby _ together. That’s a hell of a promise.”

“A child that will be born a bastard,” Loki retorted, still refusing to look at her. “With no future and no claim to my name.”

Darcy blinked. “Hey, hang on. That’s not how things work. If it’s  _ that _ important to you, our baby can have your name. And no one cares anymore if your parents are married or not.”

“Perhaps not  _ here _ .” Loki finally looked down at her, his expression grim. “But in the rest of the Nine Realms, blood and family line are  _ everything _ . A bastard child can never rise above their station. They are doomed to forever be outsiders, to exist on the fringes of society.”

“A, that is  _ so _ fucked up,” Darcy pointed out. “B, our child is going to be the grandchild of an Eternal. Who the fuck  _ cares _ if we aren’t married? You’re a fucking  _ god _ .  _ I’m _ a fucking  _ goddess _ . Like, a  _ literal _ goddess. Which is a whole other issue I have yet to deal with fully, but  _ still _ .”

“You don’t  _ understand _ ,” Loki snapped at her. “The Nine Realms are mired in antiquated rules and rituals that have not changed for  _ centuries _ . Even the bastard child of a prince has barely any hope of marrying well or inheriting anything from their father. And the bastard child of a  _ disgraced _ prince… she’ll be little better than a pauper, doomed to ever be at the mercy of her betters.”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Darcy snarled, pushing at his arm. He turned to face her, fists clenched and shoulders hunched, braced for a blow. “Just  _ stop _ . I will  _ never _ let any of that happen to my daughter. Do you understand me? I don’t give a flying  _ fuck _ what ‘rules’ the Nine Realms have. Our daughter is going to be  _ amazing _ and no one and nothing will change that. Got it?”

Loki didn’t reply. He still stood there as if expecting to be struck, to be beaten or punished for a transgression Darcy had no knowledge of.

Darcy stamped her foot in frustration. “And I never said I  _ didn’t _ want to marry you, Loki. I just said I didn’t  _ know _ .”

He stared at her, eyes wide, and his fists unclenched, shoulders straightening. “You…  _ do _ wish to…”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said quickly before he could finish. “But I’m definitely open to the possibility. But the next time you ask, I would like a ring, just to be on the safe side.”

Loki’s expression could only be described as beatific. “Of course,” he said quickly. “Do you wish to have a stone in the ring? What gems do you prefer? And what metal? Do you wish me to enchant it, or would you like to enchant it yourself?”

Darcy laughed, perhaps a bit longer than the situation warranted, but it felt good. “Stones are traditional,” she told him. “My favorite are sapphires, and I like yellow gold. I have zero idea as to why it would need to be enchanted, but you’re welcome to do whatever you feel is best.”

He smiled, almost shyly, and kissed her. “I would like you to keep the bracelet, though,” he said.

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said, raising her hand. “Is  _ that _ what this is? A betrothal gift?”

It was his turn to laugh. “Yes, of course,” he told her. “Why else would I give you something so precious?”

“Precious?” Darcy echoed. She examined the bracelet. “What do you mean? How much is this worth?”

Loki took her hand in both of his. “That is made of  _ seidrgilt  _ and  _ vetr-grœn _ . Some of the rarest and most valuable materials in the Nine Realms. This bracelet cost dear to make, and is worth no small fortune.”

She stared at him, jaw slack. “And you… gave it… to  _ me _ ?”

“How better to express my regard and devotion?” Loki asked with a smile. “It is also traditional, on Asgard, for a husband to pay his bride a heft dowry, so that if he should die in battle or she should leave him she will be provided for.”

“I can’t keep this,” Darcy said, trying to tug her hand away so she could unclasp the bracelet. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going around wearing a bracelet worth  _ millions _ of dollars.”

“You can, and you will,” Loki insisted. “I am disgraced, remember? I have little to offer you in way of position or protection. One day we may have need of this fortune. Until then, it is safe on your wrist. Only you can undo the clasp, and it will not break free on its own.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if  _ you _ kept it safe?” Darcy wheedled. She had never really worn jewelry, as a rule, and had no desire to carry around a fortune on her person.

He leaned down and placed a gentle, fleeting kiss on the back of her wrist. “It is no safer with me than with you, my love. And I like to see you wear it.”

“Not to mention it’s still spelled, isn’t it?” Darcy asked, her eyes narrowing.

“It is,” he confirmed. “As long as you wear it, I will know when you are in danger.”

“Fine,” Darcy finally conceded. “I’ll wear it.”

“Excellent,” Loki said triumphantly, and kissed her again.

xXx

The next few days were, in Darcy’s memory, the happiest of her life. They swam in the ocean, hiked along the clifftop, lounged around the house, and spent a great deal of time naked. Loki read to her each night, everything from children’s stories to historical records.

And above all, they talked. About everything. About their plans for the future. About their childhoods. About Loki’s life at the Greencoven and Darcy’s stints in juvenile detention. They compared Gertrude to Odin and couldn’t decide who was worse off.

Finally, Darcy found the opportunity to ask, “Did you ever know Amora or Lorelei?”

Loki froze in the act of slicing fruit. He had done all of the cooking for the last week, creating feasts of great variety, but not of excessive size. He was careful only to prepare what they would actually eat, leaving nothing to waste.

“Where did you hear about them?” he asked carefully, setting the knife down.

Darcy, who was perched on the counter next to him, finished chewing on the strawberry-like fruit that tasted nothing like strawberries. “Dad mentioned them. Said they weren’t fans of Freyja.”

Loki laughed briefly. “No, they were not,” he agreed. “Freyja is the one who cast them out of the Greencoven.”

“Why?” Darcy asked, swinging her legs. She reached for another fruit and Loki slapped her hand away.

“They used their magicks to ensnare the minds of several Vanir men,” Loki explained, “Pitting them against each other for their own amusement. Three of the men died fighting over the sisters. Freyja was furious and banished them.”

“Did you know them?” Darcy asked again.

Loki hesitated. “I… I knew Lorelei,” he finally admitted. “She was my lover.”

“Huh,” Darcy said, using his preoccupation to snag one of the fruits. He glared at her while she popped the whole thing into her mouth, juice leaking from the corners of her lips while she chewed.

“What happened to them?” she asked when she could speak again.

Loki shrugged. “I don’t know. I never saw either of them again after they left the Coven.”

“Do you think they could have had something to do with Freyja’s death?”

Loki frowned, his expression contemplative. “I do not know. Perhaps.” He put the knife down. “Did Lord Draumr believe they did?”

“I asked him about Freyja’s enemies, and they were the first he thought of,” she told him. “He also told me not to try and look for them. That they were too powerful for me right now.”

“I have to agree. Each one alone was a very powerful witch. Together they were nigh unstoppable.”

“Hmm,” was all that Darcy said. She did a mental count in her head. “So… Svaðilfari, Lorelei… and me?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said you’d been with three people. Svaðilfari, Lorelei, and me?”

Loki turned pink. “Ah. No… I meant, three  _ other _ than you.”

“Who’s the third?”

“I don’t recall asking you that,” Loki replied mildly.

Darcy grimaced. “Fair.” She stole another fruit before Loki could swat her hand away. “Have you thought about names?”

“Names for whom?” Loki moved his board of uncut fruit to his other side, away from Darcy, and continued slicing. He was preparing a jellied fruit pastry Darcy was particularly fond of.

“Our baby girl,” Darcy said with a mock-pout.

“I have not,” Loki replied mildly.

“What about Helena?”

He paused again and looked over at her. “Why that name?”

“It’s Cece’s middle name,” Darcy told him.

He considered that for a long moment. “Helena,” he repeated slowly. Then he chuckled. “Hela.”

Darcy frowned. “Hela?”

“It is a name of great power,” Loki told her. “As such, it is rarely used. It is said that the one who bears it will have power over life and death.”

“So… not Helena?” Darcy asked, disappointed.

“No, not at all,” Loki said. “I think it is perfect.”

xXx

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and the end came on the morning of day nine. They had risen late, bathed together, ended up in bed for another hour, bathed  _ again _ , and were finally eating brunch on the terrace in the master’s suite.

“I’m going to get fat if you keep cooking like this,” Darcy complained, reaching for another journeycake. 

“You will not,” Loki assured her. “It requires a great deal of nutrients to gestate a Vanir pregnancy, much less a mixed-species one.”

“Right,” Darcy said, rubbing her stomach. “She’ll be half Jötun, a quarter Vanir, and a quarter Endless. I wonder what she’ll look like.”

Loki’s expression abruptly darkened, jaw clenching, and he looked away, his eyes troubled.

“What is it?” Darcy demanded. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

He took a slow, deep breath. “This… form… you see. This is not what the Jötnar look like. It is a visage placed on me by Odin, that he could deceive the Asgardians that I am his natural-born son.”

“You mentioned that,” Darcy said mildly. “Why does it bother you so much?”

Loki raised his hand and examined his palm. Turned it over and continued to study it. Wiggled his fingers. Stared at his nails. “Jötnar are monstrous in appearance,” he said softly. “The touch of their skin burns their enemies. They are repulsive to every other species in the Nine Realms.”

“ _ I _ don’t think you’re repulsive,” Darcy protested.

“You haven’t seen my true form,” Loki told her. “And you do not have the context, the centuries of struggle and bloodshed that I do.”

“Show me,” Darcy demanded. “Show me what you  _ actually _ look like.”

“No,” Loki said flatly. His voice had such a finality to it that Darcy knew it was dangerous to press the issue. “I will not. And I hope you will never see me thus. I love you dearly, Darcy, and I do not doubt that you love me also. But your love would not withstand that.”

Darcy wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong, but she said nothing. She would bide her time. Someday she would convince him of the truth. Someday, but not today.

A loud bang came from downstairs and Darcy jumped. “What was  _ that _ ?”

Nothing but sea birds lived on the island, and the occasional iguana-like saltwater reptile. Certainly nothing that could make that sort of noise.

Loki rose to his feet. “Someone is testing the wards on the door,” he said quietly. “Wait here.”

“Not a chance.” Darcy was a step behind him as he headed toward the stairs to the lower level. The door shuddered again before they reached it. “What are you going to do?”

“Open it, of course,” Loki replied, his hand already on the latch. “No one but my family knows of this place. Whoever this is, they are my relations.”

“But didn’t they--” Darcy didn’t get the chance to finish before Loki pulled the door open.

A young man, appearing about Darcy’s age, stood on the threshold. He had shoulder-length blonde hair tousled by the sea wind and very bright, calculating blue eyes. He wore leather and metal armor in a similar style as Lokis, but his was all red and black and silver. A gold circlet rested on his brow, and a sword hung on his hip.

“Baldr,” Loki said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“So it’s true, then,” the Asgardian replied. “You do live.”

“It seems so, yes,” Loki replied, and stepped aside. “Please come in, brother. We were just eating morning meal. Will you join us?”

Baldr strode into the foyer of the safehouse and turned to face Loki. He had done little more than glance in Darcy’s direction, and was now content to ignore her completely.

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for that,” Baldr said gravely. “You must return to Asgard with me, brother. Immediately.”

Loki leaned against the open door frame. “I do not wish to return to Asgard,” he said. “Not now, or ever. Give Father my regards, though. And Mother my love.”

“Father is in the Odinsleep,” Baldr snapped. “Thor has been banished. And with you… “ He trailed off, and then puffed out his chest. “The rule of Asgard has fallen to me.”

Loki frowned and pushed away from the door. “Thor was banished?” he echoed. “Why?”

“For his transgression on Jötunheimr,” Baldr replied stiffly. “And for causing your death. Which apparently you had no plans to ever correct. Mother mourned you, brother. For  _ weeks _ .”

“I am sorry I caused her pain,” Loki said softly, and he  _ did _ look regretful. “But I learned things… about myself… about Odin… and I could not bear to return.”

“You will now, and you will answer for your crimes,” Baldr said.

“Wait,  _ what _ crimes?” Darcy demanded, speaking for the first time.

Baldr finally graced her with an assessing stare, starting at her feet and working his way upwards. Darcy wished she was wearing anything but a pair of very short skin-tight shorts and a crop tank under her duster.

“How atypical of you, brother,” Baldr said, ignoring Darcy’s question. “You never seemed interested in women before. At least, not in your  _ male  _ form.”

Loki clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “ _ What _ crimes, Baldr?” he echoed in a low growl.

“For conspiring with enemies of Asgard to steal from the Allfather’s weapons vault,” Baldr replied pompously. “But surely you knew that.”

“I will not return to Asgard,” Loki said. “I admit to no crimes.”

“I  _ told _ Mother you would say that,” Baldr said with a sigh. “Very well. You leave me no choice, Loki. I invoke the Law of Blood. You will return to Asgard to stand trial, or you will forfeit your blood.”

Loki went pale, but Darcy wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear. “Baldr, you snivelling, boot-licking, spoiled little weasel,” he hissed. “How  _ dare _ you invoke blood against me. Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Baldr’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll give you a moment to say your goodbyes,” he said flatly. “You are allowed that much, at least.” With that, he swept back through the door and disappeared out of sight.

“What the  _ fuck _ is going on?” Darcy demanded. “What is the Law of Blood?”

Loki clenched and unclenched his fists. “It is the third Law of Obligation,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I do not return with him, my blood is forfeit.”

“What does that mean?” Darcy stepped to Loki’s side, plucking nervously at the sleeve of his tunic.

Loki took a deep breath. “It  _ means _ that I, and any blood of mine can, and will, be put to death. Immediately and without recourse.”

Darcy’s hand flew to her stomach, instantly understanding his meaning. “What the  _ fuck _ ? Are you  _ serious _ ?”

“Deathly so,” Loki said grimly. “I have no choice. I must go with him.”

“What will they do to you?” Darcy whispered, clutching at him now, the soft fabric of his tunic wadded up in her clenched fingers.

“If they find me guilty, I imagine I will be imprisoned,” Loki replied, his attention elsewhere. “For life, no doubt.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Darcy said feelingly. “Is there--Can’t we  _ do _ something? I--I could call Dad. Maybe he could do something.”

“I am not his blood relation,” Loki told her. “He cannot grant me asylum.”

Darcy blinked. “Wait. If you  _ were _ blood related to him, Dad  _ could _ grant you asylum?”

“Lord Draumr couldn’t, no. He could not interfere in this matter.”

“But someone  _ else _ could?” Darcy asked breathlessly.

He frowned at her. “Why are you asking this?”

“Does marriage count as blood relation?”

“Darcy, what are--?”

“ _ Does _ it, Loki?”

“Yes. For this purpose, it does.”

Darcy flung herself away from Loki and through the doorway. Baldr stood on the steps leading down to the beach, his hand resting on his sword. “You can’t take him!” she yelled at the Asgardian prince. “You can’t take Loki.”

Baldr glowered up at her. “And what makes you think  _ you _ can stop me?” he sneered.

Darcy drew herself up to her unimpressive full height. “I am Gersemi,” she announced. “Goddess of Secrets. Daughter of Freyja, daughter of Nerþuz the Greenmother. I grant Loki asylum in the Greencoven.”

Baldr laughed at her nastily. “Nice try, woman. But Loki has no blood ties to the Greencoven. He cannot claim asylum there.”

“Yes he does,” Darcy retorted with a triumphant grin. “Because we’re engaged to be married.”

Baldr’s face twisted. “That’s a lie,” he spat. “You can posture all you want, wench, but Loki  _ will _ answer for his crimes.”

“She speaks the truth, Baldr,” Loki said quietly, coming up behind Darcy. “We are bound by cup and gift. Show him the bracelet, love.”

Darcy thrust out her left wrist, the  _ vetr-grœn _ sparkling in the late morning sunshine. Baldr ascended the steps and grabbed Darcy’s hand roughly, raising her arm so he could examine the bracelet.

“Pah,” he said in disgust, throwing her hand away from him. “This is a poor move, Loki. You would marry just to escape justice?  _ You _ ?”

“I would marry the woman I love,” Loki replied, his voice still soft. “We planned to leave for the Coven this night for the ceremony. You are welcome to attend and witness it.”

“I will,” Baldr growled. “I will, to ensure you mean to go through with this farce.” He whirled around and began to stalk down the steps. He stopped and turned back to them.

“I will be at the Coven three days hence, brother. If you are not there, then I will claim your forfeit!”

Loki raised his hand in farewell. “I will see you in three days, Baldr.”

Baldr growled and vanished down the steps. Loki pulled Darcy back into the safehouse and pushed the door closed.

“Holy  _ shit _ , your brother’s an  _ ass _ ,” Darcy said, pressing a hand over her racing heart. “And I thought  _ Hnoss _ was bad.”

“He’s always had a terrible inferiority complex,” Loki said with a sniff. “He will stab anyone in the back for even the promise of power.”

Darcy rubbed her eyes. “Oh, my god, we’re really going to do this. We’re going to get married. In  _ three days _ .”

Loki hesitated, then reached out to take her left hand. “Darcy, you don’t have to--”

“Yes I do,” she cut him off. “You said it yourself. Your blood would be forfeit. I am  _ not _ letting anything happen to Helena. Got it? End of discussion.”

Loki’s expression was raw and vulnerable. “Well, in that case, I believe now would be appropriate to give you this.” He plucked a ring out of thin air and slid it onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly. 

Darcy gasped and leaned in for a closer look. The gold band was an open network of incredibly detailed nordic knots. A square sapphire was set in a tension setting in the center of the band. “It’s beautiful, Loki,” she breathed. “I love it!”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the ring. “I am glad. And… I am pleased to marry you. Are you…”

  
“Shut up,” Darcy said. She grabbed the collar of his tunic with both hands and yanked him down, planting a hard, deep kiss on his mouth. “I am  _ thrilled _ to marry you, Grindalokki Odinson.” 


	21. The Greencoven

The Greencoven… was not what Darcy expected. The truth was, she didn’t know  _ what _ to expect. Loki took them through a Way, despite already being on Vanaheimr, as the Coven was on a different continent.

The Way exited from the roots of a massive tree. Darcy didn’t realize how big it was until they climbed up to ground level. The tree towering over them would put the Californian Redwoods to shame, and they were in the middle of a whole forest of them.

The ground was surprisingly clear of underbrush and, as the trees were all spaced several hundred feet apart, visibility was good for almost a mile. A thick carpet of moss peat muffled their footsteps as they began to walk, hand in hand.

Darcy looked up at Loki and saw the troubled expression on his face. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asked.

His expression cleared instantly and he smiled at her. “I am fine,” he assured her. “I just have not been here for a very long time.”

“Nervous about seeing the Greenmother?”

“Perhaps a little.”

Darcy squeezed his hand. “Nervous about seeing Sleipnir?”

Loki swallowed thickly. “Yes,” he admitted. “I--I don’t want him to hate me.”

She knew that nothing she could say would reassure him, so instead she took a different tactic. “I thought the Coven only took female students.”

“Sleipnir is a shapeshifter, as I am,” Loki explained. “He can take male or female forms at will. According to Rook, he favors a male form, and only uses a female form when performing female-centric magicks.”

Darcy stopped in her tracks. “Wait a sec,” she said. “Magick is  _ gender specific _ ?”

Loki chuckled. “Seidr has always been a woman’s purview, my love. Women are naturally more skilled than men. Some magicks can only be performed by women. Others must be performed during a woman’s fertile cycle.”

“But men  _ can _ perform magick, right? Isn’t your dad--I mean Odin--really powerful or something?”

“Yes, men  _ can _ perform magick. And a few are powerful, like Odin. But Odin made great sacrifices for the power he has.”

Darcy nodded and they began walking again. “Right. Didn’t he, like, pluck out his eye and then hang himself from Yggdrasil for nine days or something?”

“So the legends go,” Loki replied dryly. “He never would say if they were true or not.”

“Do you think your family will come to the wedding? I mean, other than Baldr? Also, he is  _ not _ going to be your best man.”

“Best… man?” Loki echoed cautiously.

“Yeah. The guy who stands up with you at the altar? What are Vanir wedding ceremonies like?”

“Ah. We call them shield-bearers. In times less… peaceful, they would hold the groom’s weapons in case of enemy attack.”

Darcy shook her head. “ _ Jesus _ . Y’all are  _ messed up _ . But seriously. Who are you going to pick?”

“Rook, of course,” Loki said without hesitation. “She’s the only person in the entire universe I trust to guard my back.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Should I be jealous of her?”

“Of Rook?” Loki looked aghast. “No. Not in the slightest. She is as my sister, my closest friend. Besides, she is already wed.”

“She is?” Darcy was surprised to hear it, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Her father arranged a political marriage for her when she was a child,” Loki told her. “She and her husband wed before she was sent to the Greencoven. I think she has seen him a handful of times since then.”

“That’s terrible!” Darcy exclaimed.

Loki frowned. “Why?”

“That her father forced her to marry someone she doesn’t love.”

He shrugged. “No one forced Rook. She accepted the marriage willingly. She needs not to have anything to do with her husband unless she chooses to, or when the time comes for her to produce an heir.”

“It still sucks,” Darcy insisted. “What if she falls in love with someone else?”

Loki chuckled. “Oh, she  _ has _ . Rook has taken several lovers over the years. It is not encouraged, but it is also not prohibited.”

Darcy shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to live like that.”

“You will never have to,” Loki promised.

Darcy had always been bad at judging distances, so she wasn’t sure how far they walked before Loki stopped. In front of them stood two smaller trees, at least, they were smaller than the trees surrounding them. Each was still over fifty feet high, their lower branches intertwined into a rough sort of gateway.

“We have arrived,” Loki announced, gesturing towards the gateway.

Darcy could see through the arch. There was nothing to be seen. “Um… arrived  _ where _ ?”

Before Loki could reply, Darcy heard a rustling noise, and Rook appeared in the archway. “Loki!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? What finally convinced you to return?”

Loki had to release Darcy’s hand to hug Rook back. “It is good to see you, too, little sister.”

Rook released Loki and then caught Darcy up in a tight embrace. “And welcome to you, Lady Gersemi. It is good to see you in the Waking at last!”

“Hi,” Darcy said breathlessly.

Rook pushed away and held Darcy at arm’s length. “You’re shorter than I imagine,” she said, looking Darcy up and down. “For the child of an Endless, I thought you’d be taller.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said dryly.

Loki pulled Darcy away from Rook. “Pay her no mind,” Loki said. “She never thinks before she speaks.”

Rook grinned. With her solid black eyes and very sharp white teeth, she looked more shark-like than rook-like. “Yes, but I’m always honest,” she said, uncaring of Loki’s admonition. “Come, come. The Greenmother awaits you!”

Loki appeared nervous again for a split second. “Sharpening her knives?”

“Weaving bonding ribbons,” Rook corrected. “She said something about a wedding?” She gave Darcy a very significant look.

Loki sighed. “Yes, Rook. We have come here to be wed.”

Rook crowed triumphantly and clapped her hands. She grabbed Darcy’s face and planted a hard kiss on each cheek. “My sister!” she exclaimed. “I have a brother and a sister!”

Darcy laughed despite herself. Rook’s exuberance was refreshing after her own family’s chronic emotional constipation.

“Urðr’s left tit, woman,” Loki protested. “Will you let us  _ in _ ?”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Rook said with an aggrieved sigh. She stood aside and gestured. “Enter and be welcome, travellers. You will abide by the Law of Hospitality while you are here.”

“ _ Thank _ you,” Loki said, and stepped through the arch, tugging Darcy along behind him. She had a brief impression of stepping through thin, gauzy curtains and then they were through.

The Coven bustled. Dozens of women followed stone paths set in the spongy ground in twos and threes, the low murmur of voices rose over the babbling of the wide, clear stream.

Darcy looked around in awe. A hundred feet overhead a network of leafy vines formed a canopy to cover the Coven. More vines formed staircases spiraling around tree trunks, leading to round structures made of living wood. More round buildings were interspersed on the ground, many with wisps of smoke streaming from holes in the top.

It was beautiful and ethereal and ageless all at once, like something sprung to life from the pages of a book by Tolkein.

“Welcome home, Lady Gersemi,” Rook said quietly.

Darcy turned in a full circle, trying to take everything in at once. “It’s incredible,” she breathed. “I love it!” She held out her hands in front of her. “I can feel… I don’t know, but the air feels like it’s vibrating!”

“This place is rich with magick and power,” Loki told her. “They say that magick was born in the Coven, and one day it will die here.”

“And then Ragnarok will begin,” Rook announced cheerily. “But let’s not keep the Greenmother waiting!”

They set out along a winding stone path, passing garden beds and some kind of futuristic hydroelectric water wheel. The women they passed stopped to stare, whispering among themselves. One stopped in their path.

“Grindalokki!” she exclaimed, setting her hands on her hips. “Why do you appear thus? Why do you not take your true form?”

“Sister Iðun, good to see you, too,” Loki said dryly. “How have you been? Well, I hope.”

Iðun blushed at her own rudeness. “My apologies, sister.” She curtsied. “Welcome home, Sister Loki.”

“Thank you,” Loki replied, bowing back. “We are urgently requested by the Greenmother, but I hope to see you again soon. Perhaps at the communal?”

“Yes, of course,” Iðun said, her gaze falling on Darcy. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, stepping aside to let them pass.

Rook led them to a raised patio made of a single stone slab. Four or five large looms circled the edge of the platform, with another in the center. A woman sat at the central loom, the wooden shuttles of the weft clacking as she wove them back and forth.

Loki bowed deeply before stepping up onto the patio, offering his hand for Darcy. “Greetings, Greenmother,” he said, inclining his head respectfully. “I have brought you your granddaughter.”

The Greenmother’s hands paused and she looked up. Darcy’s stomach lurched in a strange sense of dejá vu. She had an intense feeling that she was looking at herself, but in a couple of centuries, or more. The Greenmother had the same nose as Darcy, the same jaw and chin and dark blue eyes.

The old woman rose to her feet and stepped away from the loom, walking silently toward Darcy. She was several inches taller than Darcy, which Darcy thought was very unfair. Why had she got the short end (literally) of the stick when it came to height?

The Greenmother placed her hands on Darcy’s shoulders. “Welcome home, Gersemi,” she said in a soft voice, pitched much deeper than Darcy had expected. “You have been long missed here.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said hesitantly.

Her grandmother reached up to touch Darcy’s hair, twisting a strand between her fingers. “You are grown,” she said, sounding slightly surprised. “I had not expected to greet an adult.”

“Dad says it’s because I was raised among Humans,” Darcy offered. “Apparently I grew adaptively.”

“Yes, this could be so,” the Greenmother murmured. “You are beautiful, Gersemi. Just as your mother was. Come.” She gestured for Darcy to follow and returned to her loom. Darcy glanced nervously up at Loki, who made a shooing motion. Darcy glared at him and joined the Greenmother.

“I am making your bonding ribbons,” the Greenmother told her, showing her the ends of the strips of fabric. The base color was green, with a knotted design in gold and red and blue.

“They’re beautiful,” Darcy said softly, reaching out to touch the fabric. She had expected it to be bumpy and rough, like a woven tapestry, but the ribbons were silky and smooth under her fingers. “Are they for the ceremony?”

The Greenmother laughed. “Yes. And for after. Once bound, the ribbons will remain tied until the marriage is consummated.”

Darcy flushed hot and red. “Too late for that,” she muttered, snatching her hand back.

“There is no shame in that,” the Greenmother said with another laugh. “The Grindalokki is a desirable lover, I am told.”

“You… you’re not… upset? That we are getting married?” Darcy asked, her uncertainty clear in her voice.

“Why would I be?” the Greenmother replied. “My granddaughter is to wed my best and most powerful student. I could not ask for a better match.”

“I wish my  _ Dad’s _ side could see it that way,” Darcy said with a deep sigh.

The Greenmother scoffed. “Draumr is a fool if he thinks Loki is unworthy of you. The God of Chaos and the Goddess of Secrets? Think of all you will accomplish together!” She stood again. “But come. Your journey was long. You are hungry and I imagine you wish to bathe.”

Darcy had  _ just _ been thinking she would like a dip in the stream, and her stomach growled embarrassingly loud. “Uh… yeah. Please.”

“Follow me, granddaughter. I will provide you with  _ everything _ you need.”

xXx

“Tell me more about the Law of Blood.”

The request from Darcy came as they ate. After bathing, they had been shown to a private nest, one of the round structures clinging to the side of a tree trunk. One side of the nest held a circular depression lined with a silk-covered mattress and filled with cushions and blankets. The other half of the nest was occupied by a work desk which doubled as a dining table and rows of shelves. A meal awaited them when they arrived.

Loki put down the steamed dumpling he’d been about to bite into. “It is the third Law of Obligation,” he began.

“I know that,” Darcy interrupted impatiently. “But what  _ is _ it, really?”

“It binds a person to obey at the cost of their lineage. If the one bound refuses to obey the invoker, then they and their bloodline are wiped out.”

“What stops anyone from using it?” Darcy demanded. “Why aren’t people using it all the time?”

“Because only a family member of the bound party may invoke it,” Loki told her. “And by invoking, they put themselves at risk as well.”

“But you’re adopted,” Darcy pointed out.

“Baldr is still my family,” Loki said, shaking his head. “It is his right.”

“But he’s not blood-related to you, so if you  _ did _ forfeit, then it would be no skin off his nose.”

Loki hesitated. While  _ technically _ Darcy was correct, he had no way of answering the question satisfactorily. There was nothing in any of the books he had ever read that spoke of exceptions for adoptees, and he had never heard of anyone who had forfeited the Law of Blood.

“It doesn’t matter,” Loki said instead. “I have been granted asylum here. Baldr has no more power over me.”

“It’s  _ stupid _ ,” Darcy insisted. “Who came up with these laws, anyway?”

Loki shrugged. “No one is certain. Some say the primordial gods set them into place. Some think the Creator themselves made them. But they have been passed down for generations after generations, from far beyond any memory. Even the Greenmother doesn’t know.”

“We should probably tell her I granted you asylum here from Asgard,” Darcy muttered, picking at a boiled grain dish topped with roasted fungi. She frowned. “Is there no meat in  _ any _ of this?”

“No,” Loki said, glad of a change of subject. “No meat is eaten in the Coven. Eggs, milk, and honey, yes. But no meat.”

“Why?” Darcy asked before shoving a spoonful of the grain dish gracelessly into her mouth. She made a happy humming and proceeded to devour the bowl.

“Earth magicks require a certain reverence for nature,” he explained. “It is easier to perform them if your body is free of another living being’s meat.”

Darcy stopped, staring at him with a flat expression. “Loki. Are you a vegetarian?”

“When I can be,” he replied, reaching for another dumpling. “But if there is no alternative, I will eat meat.”

“Jesus Christ,” Darcy muttered. “Why didn’t you ever  _ say _ anything?”

He shrugged again. “It wasn’t a pressing matter. Besides, the fruits and vegetables on Midgarðr have an appalling lack of nutrients. The only way I was able to properly feed myself was to eat animal proteins.”

Darcy didn’t look happy, but she didn’t disagree. “Most vegetables you get in the grocery store are grown in greenhouses or are genetically modified to be bigger and pest- and disease-resistant. They lost a lot of nutrients somewhere along the line.

“As you say.” Loki picked up a plate of small, round sleeves of cheese. In the center of each one was a vegetable and nut chutney, topped with fresh herbs. “Try these.”

Darcy put an entire slice in her mouth and her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure. “Oh, my  _ god _ ,” she said, her mouth still full. “Everything is so freakin’  _ good _ .”

Loki laughed. “I certainly did not miss eating meat during my time here.”

“Why would you?” Darcy asked, reaching for another of the soft, golden wheat rolls. “Also this honeycomb is the  _ bomb _ .”

They finished their meal speaking only praises for the food, which Loki was grateful for. He did not wish to speak of the Lew of Blood, or Baldr, or his inevitable reunion with Sleipnir. When they had finally eaten their fill, Darcy went to inspect the bed.

“No wonder they call these things  _ nests _ ,” she declared, crawling into the middle of the mound of cushions. “I love it. I’m never leaving.”

“You will have to in three days,” Loki warned her, unlacing his boots so he could join her. “For the ceremony. But after that we can stay as long as you like.”

Darcy sat up, clutching a round pillow to her chest. “Are we spending our honeymoon here, then?”

“I hardly think we  _ need _ a honeymoon,” Loki said dryly. “You are already with child.”

She blinked at him a few times before her expression cleared. “Oh! No, on earth, a honeymoon is just a vacation people go on after they get married. We don’t use it for baby-making anymore. I mean,  _ some _ people do, but it’s not common.”

Loki stretched out on his back, tucking his hands beneath his head. Darcy snuggled up beside him, resting her head on his chest. “On Asgard, it is expected that you have children early in your marriage, so that when you are old, your children and grandchildren will care for you.”

Darcy raised one hand and pointed down at her abdomen. “We’re right on track, then.”

“It would be best, I think, not to tell anyone at the Coven you are with child,” Loki said delicately. “Not yet, at least. The timing is right that we can safely claim the child was conceived  _ after _ our marriage.”

She turned her head to meet his eye. “Is this because of the whole ‘bastards are the dregs of society’ crap you were talking about the other day?”

“No,” Loki replied. “I simply do not think it safe for Baldr to know you are carrying my child.”

“Oh,” Darcy said in a very small voice. “Yeah. Okay.”

He freed one hand to rub her back. “I will not let anyone hurt you, Darcy. I give you my word. You and Helena will be safe.”

Darcy snorted. “Oh, I know. Can you imagine  _ Dad _ letting anyone come near me? Or Daniel? Or freaking  _ Death _ ?”

He smiled thinly. “I imagine Baldr would be in for a very nasty surprise.”

Darcy sat up. “Enough talking,” she announced. “No more talking. No more thinking. I want a distraction.”

Loki perked up instantly. “And just  _ how _ do you want to be distracted, my love?”

She pulled at the laces of his tunic. “I’m sure you can come up with something,” she purred.

He took hold of her arms and deftly switched their positions, so she was laid on her back beneath him, and stripped off her blouse. He licked a wet stripe from the valley between her breasts up to her collarbone and she arched her back with a soft moan.

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “That’ll work.”

He distracted her until the moons set and the stars began their dance toward daylight, only relenting when she pleaded for sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day for them both, and she would need the rest.


	22. A Long-Awaited Reunion

Loki woke before dawn, the summons ringing in his head like a clarion bell. He carefully disentangled himself from Darcy and quickly dressed before descending the narrow, winding staircase to the forest floor. The nest the Greenmother had provided them was almost to the vine canopy, nearly a hundred feet off the ground.

The Greenmother waited for him on the stone path at the bottom of the stairs. “Good morning, Loki,” she greeted, and handed him a basket. He took it and glanced inside. Bread, cheese, honeycomb, yoghurt, and fruit, as well as dumplings filled with bean paste and a firm, protein-rich gelatine called  _ tafa _ .

“Good morning, Greenmother,” he replied respectfully. “You did not have to bring us morning meal yourself.”

“I know,” the Greenmother said, inclining her head. “But I wished to speak to you privately, away from my granddaughter.”

Loki frowned. “What is it?” He tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but the Greenmother could sense it anyway, he knew.

“Why did you come back to the Coven?” she asked. “The last we spoke, you were in no hurry to return.”

Loki knew there could be no answer but the truth. “My younger brother, Baldr, invoked the Law of Blood to force me to return to Asgard and answer for the crimes he charged me with,” he said bitterly. “Darcy granted me asylum here.”

“As long as you are wed,” the Greenmother finished with a nod. “I see. So you do not marry her because you love her?”

Loki hesitated. “I do love her,” he said softly. It was difficult for him to speak of such intimate emotions to anyone but Darcy. To Darcy he could sing of his love for her all day and all night, but to anyone else, even the Greenmother, he was loath to reveal such a vulnerable part of himself.

“And does she love you?” the Greenmother demanded.

“She has told me she does.”

She nodded again. “Very well. Then I affirm her grant of asylum and welcome you back to the Greencoven as a Greenchild of my own blood. But Loki, after the wedding, you will return to your female form. You know that only a woman may dwell here at the Coven.”

Loki nodded. “I know well, Greenmother. I only keep this form because it is the only one Darcy has seen.”

“As you say. But Loki, asylum here at the Coven comes with conditions, as with all things.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. Whatever the conditions, he would accept them. His only alternative was to return to Asgard with Baldr to be sentenced guilty by whatever farce of a trial his younger brother came up with. 

“Name them.”

“First, you will resolve your differences with Hnoss. You have each spilled the other’s blood. Let it be done now. You will be as sisters after the wedding.”

Loki grimaced. “I will do so.”

“And secondly, you will be reunited with Sleipnir. The child deserves his mother. After all, doesn't every child learn best on their mother’s knee? He struggles with his lessons. You will teach him henceforth.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, to beg for any task but that one, but the Greenmother held up a hand to silence him. “I have spoken my conditions,” she said warningly. “You will accept them or leave.”

He sighed, teeth clenched, and bowed his head. “I accept your conditions,” he muttered.

The Greenmother put her hand on his shoulder. “Do not fear Sleipnir’s resentment, my daughter. That child loves everyone and everything he meets. He will love you just as dearly, if you only tell him the truth.”

Loki nodded again. “What… whatever came of Svaðilfari?” he asked quietly. “Does he come here to see the boy?”

She patted his shoulder. “I’m afraid he died, some years ago,” she told him gently. “His village was flooded by storm waters, and he drowned saving several children.”

It had been four centuries since Loki had seen his former lover, but the news of his death still sent a stab of pain through his chest, leaving a dull ache in its wake. “Thank you for telling me,” he said stiffly. He lifted the basket. “I should wake Darcy. I am sure there are many preparations to be done.”

“I will send Hnoss to fetch her and Rook for you in two hours,” the Greenmother told him. “Be ready. You will not see each other again until the ceremony, as is our tradition.”

“Of course.” Loki offered her a bow and then ascended back to the nest. Darcy was just waking up, blinking around in the dim light of the windowless structure.

Loki reached out and tapped a crystal embedded in the wall, holding the spell in his mind. The crystal and others similar to it lit up with a soft, amber glow, lighting the interior of the nest.

“Where’d you go?” Darcy mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with one hand. Her shoulder-length hair was disheveled, her skin imprinted by the cushions and blankets they had slept on. 

Loki thought she looked glorious. 

“To fetch morning meal,” he replied, setting the basket on the low dining table. “This will be the last meal we share until the wedding feast. I thought you might want to eat in private.”

Darcy crawled out of the bed and picked up her dream-cloak duster, wrapping it around her otherwise naked body. “Why is this going to be our last meal together?” she demanded, shuffling over to sit next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“It is tradition that the wedding parties remain separate for the two days leading to the wedding,” Loki explained. “There is much work to be done and there is no time for distractions.”

Darcy glanced back toward the bed and smiled. “You  _ are _ pretty distracting,” she murmured, and reached into the basket for a dumpling. “I guess I’m going to need a dress, huh?”

Loki nodded. “That is customary, but not required. You can wear whatever you wish.”

“I want to wear a dress,” Darcy said, chewing thoughtfully. “Can I invite people? Like my mom and Jesse?” She hesitated. “I’d like Dad and Daniel to be there, too. And maybe Aunt D?”

“Anyone you wish will be invited,” Loki promised. “Make a list and give it to Hnoss, and she will ensure they attend.”

Darcy’s eyes widened and she choked on her mouthful of cheese. “Hnoss?” she echoed.

“As your sister, it is her right to be your attendant,” Loki told her neutrally. “Just as Rook will be mine.”

“ _ Half _ -sister,” Darcy muttered. “Does it  _ have _ to be here? I don’t trust her to watch my back.”

“Not your shield-bearer,” Loki assured her. “Just your attendant. She will help you choose your clothing and attend to all your needs over the next two days.”

“Oh.” Darcy selected a piece of  _ tafa _ and sniffed it curiously. It had a pleasing, nutty smell and a rich, earthy flavor. She seemed pleased enough with it and promptly devoured two more pieces.

“You  _ will  _ need to choose your shield-bearer,” Loki said.

“And it’s just a ceremonial position, right?” Darcy asked.

Loki shrugged. “It  _ should _ be, but with Baldr present, there is no way to tell.”

“Did something happen between you and Baldr? That he’d be willing to put you in jail forever or invoke the Law of Blood because you let a couple of Jötnar into the weapons vault?”

Loki sighed deeply. “Not any one thing, no. Remember that Baldr is little more than a boy. He has not yet reached his majority. He is the youngest of three sons, and we were not gentle with him. All he ever wanted was to prove himself better than me and Thor, which of course he could not do. He was a selfish, willful child, and my mother indulged him in all things, even more than she ever did me.”

Darcy scratched the shaved side of her head. “That sounds like a recipe for a narcissist,” she observed. “So this is his way of proving once and for all that he’s better than you. He won.”

“I suppose, though I don’t know  _ what _ he won. I never wanted the throne of Asgard. That was always Thor’s to claim.”

“But Thor got banished,” Darcy pointed out. “Do you think they’ll bring him back since they know you’re alive?”

Loki snorted. “I doubt it. At least not until the Allfather wakes from the Odinsleep and puts Baldr back into his place. He never had patience for Baldr’s tantrums.”

“Odinsleep? What is that?”

“The Allfather is… very old. No one is certain how old, but it is said he walked with the Norns at the beginnings of the Worlds.” Loki rubbed the back of his neck. “As he aged, it became necessary for him to fall into a healing trance every century or so, or else he will die.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She considered that for a moment, sucking the juice from a red  _ rjóðr _ berry. “How long does it last?”

“It depends on how much magick he has used. Sometimes days, sometimes months. One time it lasted a full year.”

“Well,  _ that’s _ not good,” Darcy said dryly. “A whole year of Baldr running Asgard?”

Loki shook his head. “I pray it will not last so long this time.”

“You and me both, mister.”

xXx

Loki hurried them through the rest of breakfast, to Darcy’s intense disappointment, and she dressed in clothing she found in a chest of drawers shoved in a corner. The thigh-length tunic, leggings, and boots did not initially fit her, but Loki magicked them to exactly her size. She put on her dream-cloak duster, not knowing if she would need it for any reason and erring on the side of caution. 

When they left the nest, Rook and Hnoss were waiting for them on the path at the base of the stairs. Rook looked excited and exuberant, as she always did. Hnoss appeared perfectly neutral and unreadable. She didn’t even look in Loki’s direction.

“Hello, Gersemi,” she said politely enough, offering her hand to Darcy. “It is good to finally meet you properly, little sister.”

As Darcy took Hnoss’ hand, she noted the small differences between them. Hnoss’ hair was lighter brown, her eyes green instead of blue. Her chin and jaw were a different shape, and she had not been given lips nor breasts as generous as Darcy’s.

“Good to meet you, too,” Darcy replied, equally as polite. “I always wanted a sister.”

“I grew up with many,” Hnoss said. “Here at the Coven, we are all sisters. But I mourned your loss, and the loss of our mother.”

“I’d like to hear about her, if that’s okay,” Darcy hazarded, thinking that might be the best way to connect to her sister.

Hnoss smiled sadly, but not unkindly. “Perhaps later. Now we must prepare for your wedding. Please come with me.”

Darcy looked up at Loki, who still stood beside her. “Um… bye for now, I guess.”

He leaned down to kiss her chastely. “I will see you soon,” he promised, and then followed Rook away. Darcy had a brief moment of feeling abandoned, but pushed the emotion away.

“Lead the way,” she told Hnoss.

Their first stop was one of the bathing houses, which Darcy was grateful for. She smelled of sweat and sex and she  _ knew _ Hnoss could smell her if her olfactory sense was anything like Loki’s. So she scrubbed herself until her skin was pink and glowing and her hair squeaked when she rubbed it.

Her clothes were gone when she exited the tub, a massive towel left in its place. Darcy dried herself quickly and wrapped the towel around herself.

“Uh… Hnoss?” she called. “Where are my clothes?”

Hnoss pulled open the door to the bath house, let in a wash of cool, dry air. “You won’t need them for a while,” she said, and stepped aside. Two women walked into the bath house, carrying a narrow, padded table between them. Hnoss entered after them, holding a basket full of glass bottles.

“Gersemi, this is Sister Embla and Sister Grainne,” Hnoss introduced. “They will be helping you prepare for the wedding.”

“By doing  _ what _ ?” Darcy demanded, clutching her towel to her chest.

Grainne laughed, high and musical. “We are here to enhance your beauty,” she said, still smiling. “We will massage you, oil your skin, and soften your hair.”

“Oh,” Darcy said slowly. She was going to have a spa day.

_ Excellent _ .

Later, after a light lunch of salad greens, raw fungi, and flatbread with a hummus-like spread, Darcy was ushered from the bathouse to another, larger structure that was filled with bolts of cloth. The Greenmother and another elderly woman waited for her.

“Hello again, Granddaughter,” the Greenmother said, stepping forward to place a kiss on each of Darcy’s cheeks.

“Hi,” Darcy said, a bit shyly. If she was being honest, the Greenmother intimidated her. She had never had grandparents before, as Cece’s parents had passed away before she’d been placed with her. She had two aunts and a cousin, but that was about it. Now she had a father, a grandmother, two half-siblings, five aunts and uncles, and a second cousin. She’d always dreamed of having a big family.

This was not what she’d imagined.

“We are here to discuss what you will wear for the ceremony,” the Greenmother said. “This is Lærke, our seamstress.”

Lærke smiled invitingly and beckoned Darcy to approach her. She had snow-white hair plaited into a braided crown and bright red cheeks. Her brown eyes sparkled and her hands were quick and strong. Darcy instantly loved her.

“Green is the traditional color for a bride of the Coven,” Lærke told Darcy in a creaky voice. “But you can choose whatever color you wish.”   
  


“Green is fine,” Darcy said quickly. “I was never a white dress kind of girl.”

Lærke squinted up at Darcy. “Why would any bride wear  _ white _ ?” she asked, visibly confused.

“Um, it’s supposed to convey purity, I guess?” Darcy replied. “At this point it’s pretty much just an outdated tradition.”

The old seamstress cackled. Darcy wasn’t sure if she was about to offer her a cookie or try to boil her in a pot. Either seemed perfectly plausible. “Not a one of our girls here are ‘pure’, are they, Nerþuz?”

The Greenmother smiled slyly. “Not a one,” she agreed. “And certainly not my granddaughters.”

Darcy blushed bright red and both women laughed at her.

“Tis nothing to be ashamed of, girl child,” Lærke tutted, patting Darcy’s hair fondly. “Many magicks are intertwined with lovemaking, and learn them the Greenblood must. Now. Look at my fabrics. Which do you prefer?”

All of the fabric was undyed, various shades of beige. There were laces so intricate they made Darcy’s fingers hurt with the thought of tiny needles and slender thread, and velvets so soft they felt like rabbit fur. Silks, satins, jacquards, even cotton, leather, and linen.

“I--I don’t even know where to begin,” Darcy admitted after a few breathless moments of touching everything she could reach.

“Why don’t I gather some of my favorites,” Lærke suggested. “And you sit and have some tea with your grandmother?”

“O--okay,” Darcy said, and let the Greenmother lead her to a low table already set with teacups and a steaming kettle. She had a sneaking suspicion this was their plan all along.

“The Grindalokki tells me you granted him asylum here at the Coven,” the Greenmother said after she had filled their cups with fragrant liquid.

“Yeah,” Darcy said slowly. “I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what else to do. His brother showed up talking about the Law of Blood, and if Loki didn’t go back to Asgard with him, then Baldr would have him killed, and I just  _ couldn’t _ let that happen…” As she spoke her words tumbled faster and faster until she finally ran out of breath.

The Greenmother reached out and patted Darcy’s hand. “I understand,  _ meyla _ . Invoking the Law of Blood is a very serious occasion. But it was Baldr’s right, as it is your right to grant him asylum. But you must understand, a marriage performed at the Coven cannot be undone except by death.”

Darcy grimaced. “Oh. Well, I guess divorcing him after Baldr loses interest is out of the question, then.”

The Greenmother stared disapprovingly at Darcy for several long seconds, until Darcy ducked her head. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“This is not a union to enter into lightly,” The Greenmother warned. “You will be bound by more than body. You will be bound by magick and blood, as well.”

“I understand,” Darcy said. She didn’t really, but she knew that this was a big deal.

“I want to ensure, before you go through with the ceremony, that you  _ do _ love Loki. That you truly wish to marry him.”

Darcy took a deep breath. She  _ did _ love Loki. A lot. And she wanted them to raise their daughter together. That was a given. Marrying him  _ did _ seem like a big step, and pretty drastic, but the other option was for Loki to spend the rest of his life in an Asgardian prison.

And there was no way in  _ hell _ she was going to let  _ that _ happen.

“I really do,” she said firmly. “I want to marry him.”

The Greenmother inclined her head. “Very well.”

Darcy sipped at her tea and then put the cup down. “I was hoping I could invite a few people,” she said cautiously.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” the Greenmother said. “Name them and they will be present.”

Darcy smiled thinly. “Good.”

xXx

Rook stayed mercifully and uncharacteristically silent at Loki’s side as they walked through the Coven. Loki was under no illusion as to where they were going. This path led only to the training fields at the edge of the Coven.

“How many acolytes does the Coven have at the moment?” Loki asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Nine,” Rook replied. “Though two are nearly finished.”

“A good number,” Loki said with a nod. Nine was a fortunate number, and often used in spells.

“The Greenmother is pleased,” Rook agreed. She carried her spear staff in the crook of one arm, occasionally tapping the stones in the path ahead of her. The paths were old and solid, but Rook did not trust the earth, and was eternally paranoid about treacherous ground. She much preferred to be airborne, or among the treetops.

They reached the training fields, where seven young girls of varying heights sat in a circle around their instructor. Loki immediately recognized this lesson. He could even recite it word for word.

The instructor looked up as they approached. “Children, we have visitors.”

The girls scrambled to their feet and assembled in a line facing Loki and Rook. They stared, wide-eyed, at Loki, who was likely the first man they had seen in years.

“Good morning, Sister Rook,” the girls chorused.

Loki barely heard them, his eyes fixed on the girl third from the left. She was not quite as tall as either girl on either side of her but quite a bit thinner than either. She had not yet entered maidenhood, all coltish limbs and too-large hands. Her eyes were enormous in her narrow, pointed face, a color somewhere between blue and gray and green. Her shoulder-length wavy hair was jet-black, her skin pale but still kissed by the sun.

Loki moved as if in a dream, walking over to stand in front of the girl. He knelt on one knee so their heights were not so disparate.

“Hello, Sleipnir,” he said softly. “I am your mother.”


	23. Woe Betide Odin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my sweets! If you are not subscribed to my other series, The Ragnarok Cycle (formerly known as The Yggdrasil Chronicles), I just updated for the first time in I don't know how long on the new-ish installation: Into The Unknown. As you may or may not be aware, I did some major reconstruction on the series to make it more printer friendly when I am finally able to print it.
> 
> And as always, the link to buy a copy of A Profound Silence is in my bio. Any proceeds over printing costs will go towards commissioning a cover for This Is Gospel. Thank you, Traxus_IV, who has graciously agreed to act as editor once again.

For a long moment Sleipnir stared at Loki with wide, unreadable eyes. Loki’s heart sank, dreading the child’s next words. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

“Are you a shapeshifter, too?”

That was not the response Loki had expected. “Yes,” he said after a heartbeat to recover. “Yes, I am.”

Sleipnir nodded sagely. “I thought you were. My father died, you see. A long time ago, so I knew you could not be my father. And then you said you were my  _ mother _ , but you’re a  _ man _ , so I thought you must be a shapeshifter, like me.”

“That was very quick thinking of you,” Loki replied. He felt off-balance. He had expected anger, perhaps, or resentment. Part of him had hoped, against his better judgement, for joy. But this logical, matter-of-fact attitude… he had not expected that.

“Sister Tildé, may Sleipnir be excused from lessons for the rest of the day?” Rook asked. The instructor nodded her acquiescence.

“But if I miss lessons, I will fall behind!” Sleipnir protested.

“The Greenmother wishes for me to instruct you from now on,” Loki told the child.

“Oh,” was Sleipnir’s wide-eyed reply. For a moment no one moved, and then Rook offered the child her hand.

“Come. We don’t have much time for lessons today, I’m afraid. Your mother is getting married the day after tomorrow.”

“You are?” Sleipnir asked curiously, taking Rook’s hand. “To who?”

“A woman I love very much,” Loki told the child. “A woman I know will love you, as well.”

Sleipnir considered that as they walked away from the training field. “What shall I call her?” she asked. “I can’t call her ‘mother.’ I already have a mother. Shall I call her ‘father’?”

Loki laughed, surprising himself. “No. You may call her Darcy. That is her name.”

“Darcy,” Sleipnir repeated, hopping from stone to stone along the path. “Darcy Darcy Darcy.” She stopped abruptly, tugging Rook to a halt beside her. “May I change shape?” she asked. “I only use this one for Communal and the womanly magicks. I like my other one more.”

“You may take whatever shape you desire,” Loki assured her.

“Don’t tell the child that!” Rook exclaimed. “You weren’t here when he trampled all of Sister Iðun’s seedlings in the form of a colt with eight legs.”

Loki blinked three times. “Eight legs?” he echoed.

“I can run faster!” Sleipnir exclaimed, and then changed. He was now very clearly a young boy, his hair just long enough to cover his ears and fall into his eyes. Otherwise, his features change little, as he was still at that age when there was little outward difference between genders. “Look, Mother,” he said excitedly. “I look just like you!”

He  _ did _ , and the similarities were not lost on Loki. His wind went to his unborn daughter, and he wondered whom she would favor: Darcy or himself.

“What lessons are we going to do today?” Sleipnir demanded, dancing from foot to foot with excitement. “I can use voidfire! And I can summon water from stones. And make flowers grow from grass. And I can make sick mice healthy again!”

“Very good!” Loki congratulated him. “You must be working very hard.”

Sleipnir’s face fell. “I do, but the others are always better than I am,” he said sullenly, kicking one foot petulantly.

“It was the same for me when I was your age,” Loki said softly.

“But everyone says that the Grindalokki was the best witch ever!” Sleipnir protested.

“Perhaps,” Loki agreed. “But I still struggled when I was younger. Here.” He pulled a small talisman out of storage. It was a crude thing, carved from a shed antler he had found in the Greenwood when he was no older than SLeipnir. “Do you know what this is?”

Sleipnir took it hesitantly, turning it over in clever fingers as he examined it. “It has a spell caught in it!” he said with disbelief. “How did you do that?”

“When I realized I was not as strong or as powerful as the other acolytes I was trained with,” Loki explained. “I taught myself to store spells in talismans like this one. Then, when I needed the spell, all I had to do was release it.”

Sleipnir’s hand closed over the carved horn. “May I have this?” he asked cautiously.

“You may. And I will show you how to make your own.”

Loki was rewarded with a dazzling smile that made his stomach feel like it was full of fluttering birds. Perhaps this was not going to be so terrible after all.

xXx

Darcy was in the middle of a fitting with Lærke when Hnoss arrived to hustle her to the gate of the Coven. “What is it?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Hnoss replied shortly. “The first of your guests have arrived. I thought you might want to meet them at the gate.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, caught off-guard by Hnoss’ thoughtfulness. Hnoss had not been exactly chatty, nor had she taken any effort to befriend Darcy, so the kindness of the gesture was completely unexpected. “Thanks.”

They arrived at the gate at the same time as Darcy’s guests. “Cece!” Darcy exclaimed, throwing her arms around her foster mother. Cece hugged her back just as hard.

“Oh, baby girl. I can’t believe you’re getting  _ married _ .”

“Yeah, neither can I,” Darcy admitted. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

“You’d better,” Cece said flatly. “I wanna know if Loki is getting a piece of my mind or not.”

“No, he’s not,” Darcy said firmly. “This was 100% my idea. Sort of. Anyway.”

Jesse stood behind Cece, holding on to the back of her shirt. He let Darcy poke his shoulder gently, and then returned the gesture with his free hand.

“Hey, Jess. You okay?” Darcy asked softly. “I know all of this is really weird, but everything’s okay.”

_ I know _ , Jesse signed with his free hand.  _ Mom say okay _ .

“That’s right,” Darcy said with relief. “And Mom is always right.” Jesse nodded in agreement.

“Darcy!”

She looked around at the sound of her name and saw Jane beckoning to her from the foot of one of the giant trees, her phase meter in her hand. A long-suffering Greenchild stood nearby, holding a hard-sided equipment case in each hand.

Darcy jogged over to join Jane, an amused smile hovering over her lips. Of course Jane would take every opportunity to SCIENCE! During a trip to a different planet. “What’s up, Spock?”

“Do you have  _ any _ idea how  _ old _ these trees are?” Jane demanded excitedly. “Just judging by preliminary readings, they could be as old as two  _ million _ years! That’s unbelievable! I need to take samples back to my lab and have them carbon-dated.”

“Not a good idea,” Darcy warned. “The Greenchildren don’t like people messing with the trees in their woods.”

“But there’s discarded leaves and branches on the ground. Can I take some of those?” Jane turned her biggest, brownest puppy-dog eyes to her minder, who sighed heavily and nodded once. Jane squealed in triumph and snatched several dead twigs from the mossy ground.

“Science later, Jane,” Darcy said after Jane had finished storing the samples. “Let’s go. I’ve got a wedding to plan. Actually I’m hardly doing any of the planning. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing except me.”

“Wait, so you’re  _ actually  _ getting married?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, we  _ actually _ are,” Darcy replied dryly.

“Is it because you’re--ow! What the hell, Darcy?”

Darcy had pinched Jane hard on the arm to keep her from announcing to the Greenwood in general that she was pregnant. “I’ll tell you everything later,” Darcy hissed. “In the meantime, keep the egnancypray on the DL, please. Loki doesn’t want anyone to know until  _ after _ we get married.”

“Why?” Jane asked, and then gasped. “Oh, my god. Are his family prudes?”

“No, but his brother is a royal dick, and Loki doesn’t want him knowing about the sprog.”

Jane grimaced. “Oof. Problems with the in-laws already. My mom’s family hated my dad.”

“That’s because your Mom’s family is British royalty and your Dad was a scholarship student,” Darcy pointed out.

“They’re not  _ royalty _ ,” Jane protested. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said with her arms crossed. “And  _ how _ many in line are you from the throne?”

“Thirty-ninth,” Jane muttered.

“Fancy that,” Darcy replied. “Let’s go, princess.”

Jane was full of questions as they made their way through the Coven, her phase meter in one hand and a video camera in the other. Darcy eventually told her to put the equipment away as she was making the occupants of the Coven nervous. Cece kept her questions for later, and Jesse did his best not to look at anything except the path directly in front of them.

Due to Jesse’s deep distrust of heights, he and Cece were assigned a nest on the ground. Darcy found, when they were escorted there, that her own meager belongings had been moved to this one. The table was set with a light lunch and places for four. Once the minders stowed the luggage, they were left alone.

“Okay,” Cece said. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Darcy poured glasses of iced mint-flavored tea for all of them. “Cece, you remember Jane Foster, right? Jane, this is my foster mom, Cecily Simmons.”

“I remember,” Cece said contritely, offering Jane her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Doctor.”

“You as well, Doctor,” Jane replied, shaking her hand.

“I’m surrounded by doctors,” Darcy muttered. “God forbid I ever go to grad school.”

“Darcy has told me she really enjoyed working for you,” Cece went on.

“I enjoyed having her. And I’ve definitely missed having her the last few months. My replacement lab assistant turned out to be an alien spy, so…” Jane trailed off with a shrug.

“Right. Okay. Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Cece turned back to Darcy. “Spill. What’s  _ really _ going on?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “Right. So, after the whole Kree situation --sorry, Mom, classified-- Loki and I went to this island here on Vanaheimr to catch our breath and recover but somehow his younger brother figured out that we were there. He showed up and started accusing Loki of doing all these things before he came to earth and he wanted Loki to go back to Asgard with him but Loki refused.  _ Then _ his brother invoked the Law of Blood, which means that if Loki refused to go back with Baldr, then Baldr could kill Loki and everyone related to Loki.”

“Wouldn’t that include Loki’s brother?” Jane asked, horrified.

“Ah, but it  _ wouldn’t _ ,” Darcy said, raising one finger. “Loki is adopted. But his brother isn’t supposed to know that. Who it  _ would _ include is our little polliwog here,” Darcy pointed to her stomach. “And Loki’s son, Sleipnir.”

“Loki already has a kid?” Cece interrupted.

“Yeah. Long story, though. He was taken away from Loki when he was born and brought here to be raised because Loki’s dad is a bigger dickwad than his brother.”

Cece pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not impressed by Loki’s family so far.”

“Trust me, I’m not either,” Darcy agreed.

“What does any of this have to do with you and Loki getting married?” Jane demanded.

“Well, my maternal grandmother runs this place. She actually  _ founded _ it, and because I’m blood related to her I can offer Loki asylum here, but only if we’re married.” Darcy shrugged. “I mean, I’m pretty sure it would have happened eventually anyway, but I didn’t expect it to be so  _ soon _ .”

“What exactly did Loki  _ do _ ?” Jane asked, eyes wide.

“Nothing that actually matters,” Darcy said with a dismissive wave. “His older brother got banished, Loki’s been AWOL, and since their dad is sick, the throne falls to Baldr. Loki is pretty sure that Baldr is trying to consolidate power before Odin gets better and brings Thor back.”

Cece shook her head. “I can’t imagine my brother doing something like that to me.”

“Neither could I,” Darcy murmured, glancing over at Jesse, who was calmly eating from his plate in a clockwise rotation.

“Well, this  _ sucks _ ,” Jane announced. “I was pretty sure something was up when a complete stranger showed up on my doorstep to take me to a different planet for your wedding, but I didn’t think it was a matter of life and death.”

“Speaking of which, that’s why we’re keeping the spawn on the DL. We don’t want Baldr to know about her until  _ after _ the wedding and she and Loki are safe.”

“You’re having a girl?” Cece demanded. “How could you possibly already know?”

“I have friends in high places,” Darcy replied. “We’re calling her Helena.”

Cece blinked a few times, her eyes suddenly misty. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “That’s… that’s lovely, Darcy. I… I’m so honored.”

“Helena is her middle name,” Darcy helpfully told Jane.

“Aw,” Jane said with a smile. “That’s so  _ sweet _ .”

“Wait until you hear what Loki wants to call her,” Darcy added dryly. “He plans on shortening it to ‘Hela’.”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, he was so wiggy at first about having a kid that I’m not going to push the issue. He can call her whatever he wants as long as he sticks around.”

“You thought he might not?” Cece demanded, her mothering instinct on high alert.

“No, not exactly,” Darcy said slowly. “He just… like, he didn’t want to acknowledge that he had a right to make decisions about the pregnancy. He just kept asking what  _ I _ needed and what  _ I _ planned on doing. It wasn’t until I said I wanted to keep the pregnancy that he started talking about  _ our _ baby.”

Cece laughed quietly. “Oh, baby girl. That’s not unusual, especially for someone like Loki. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Darcy tapped her lips. “I  _ thought _ it was because Odin took Sleipnir away from him.”

“It’s possible. Losing a child like that must have been horribly traumatic. It would make sense that a part of him would be afraid that would happen a second time.”

“Odin can go  _ fuck _ himself if he thinks he is getting  _ anywhere _ close to my baby,” Darcy growled, stabbing her fork angrily into a bowl of salad greens. She pulled it back with a small, red, round vegetable impaled on the tines. She recognized it as a juicy vegetable almost, but not quite, completely unlike a tomato.

“We would never let that happen,” Jane assured her.

“I’d like to see him  _ try _ ,” Cece agreed, her brown eyes flashing. 

Darcy smiled, finding their words reassuring. Mortals or not, there wasn’t a whole lot that could stop these two women when they set their minds to it. And woe betide Odin if he thought he could cross Dr. Cecily Helena Simmons.


	24. An Overabundance of Optimism

Darcy’s father arrived that afternoon. She knew he was attending the ceremony, but she hadn’t expected him to come until the next day. It probably would have been better if he had. Darcy didn’t even know he was at the Greencoven until the sun disappeared behind deep shadows and the temperature plunged twenty degrees.

“What the hell is _this_?” Cece demanded, pulling Jesse close to her side.

“Is it an eclipse?” Jane asked excitedly, digging her digital video camera out of her bag. “Are they common here?”

“No,” Darcy said with a sense of foreboding. “That’s my dad.”

“Your… dad,” Cece echoed slowly. “The… the Dream Lord, right?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “And he’s not happy about something.”

Hnoss hurried toward them along the path, waving to get Darcy’s attention. “Gersemi, come quickly. Your father and Grandmother are arguing again.”

“Great,” Darcy muttered. “Mom, Jane, stay here. Dad can get really scary when he’s mad and you don’t need to see that.” 

Cece grabbed her hand as she turned to follow Hnoss. “Is it safe?” Cece demanded. “For you, I mean.”

“Dad would never do anything to hurt me,” Darcy assured her, and kissed Cece quickly on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, promise.”

As she strode quickly alongside Hnoss, Darcy asked, “What are they arguing about this time?”

“What _aren’t_ they arguing about?” Hnoss muttered back peevishly. “They’ve never forgiven each other. Why start now just because their daughter and granddaughter is getting _married_ . It’s not as if this time should be about _you_ or anything.”

The bitterness in Hnoss’ voice surprised Darcy, and she realized that she might have gotten the wrong impression of her half sister. “Forgiven each other about what?” she asked cautiously.

Hnoss sighed deeply. “Morpheus blames Grandmother for Mother’s death, I’m sure of it. And Grandmother blames Morpheus for stealing her from the Coven.”

“But Freyja left the Coven by choice,” Darcy pointed out.

“She did,” Hnoss agreed. “She told me so herself. I was sad to see her go, but I wanted her to be happy. And Morpheus made her happy. Especially after _my_ father died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Darcy murmured. She at least had her father, but Hnoss was an orphan.

Hnoss shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Regardless, I never begrudge my mother her happiness, but Grandmother took it as a personal insult.”

Darcy considered her next words very carefully. “How did our mother die?” she asked.

Hnoss stopped dead and stared at Darcy for several long, silent seconds. “No one told you?” she demanded indignantly.

“Um… everyone said she died in childbirth,” Darcy replied.

Her sister’s face hardened, cheeks reddening in anger. “Childbirth? A witch of the Coven? Never! She killed herself with poison.”

Darcy’s breath caught in her throat, her mouth gaping. “She _what_?!”

“She took a poison while she was in labor,” Hnoss said. Then she paused, her expression gentling. “Oh, Gersemi. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all of this the day before your wedding.”

Darcy shook her head. “ _Why_ did she poison herself? She had to have had a reason, right?”

“I always believed so,” Hnoss said softly. She hesitated, then made an object appear in her hand. It was wrapped in an undyed cloth. She offered it to Darcy. “This belonged to our mother. I think she would like you to have it.”

Darcy took the object reverently. “Are you sure? I mean, you actually knew her.”

“I did. And I have memories of her to treasure. You have nothing, I’m afraid. I want you to have it. Consider it a wedding gift.”

Darcy pulled aside the wrapping and found a delicate pendant carved from a rich, reddish wood in the shape of a wreath of flowers. The petals of the blossoms were inlaid with gold and white antler and it was strung on a green silk cord. It hummed faintly with power, an old spell but still strong.

“It’s beautiful,” Darcy said, her throat thick with suppressed tears.

“It was her favorite talisman. She stored a healing spell in it. If you wear it close to your heart you can almost feel her presence. Here. Let me.” Hnoss took the necklace and reached forward to attach it around Darcy’s neck. It lay just under her collar bone. Hnoss was right. It felt warm and comforting, the way a mother’s touch should be. 

Tears spilled over down Darcy’s cheeks. “Thank you, Hnoss.”

Hnoss hugged her tightly. “I’m glad to have you back, little sister.”

An ominous rumble came from the direction of the weaving circle, and the sisters sprang apart, hurrying on their way again.

“I hoped you would be a calming presence for your father,” Hnoss told Darcy. “He seems to care for you very much.”

“He does,” Darcy agreed. “He’s a great Dad, just a little over-protective.”

Hnoss snorted. “Of _course_ he would be.”

The weaving circle was almost completely enshrouded in shadows by the time they arrived, Dream and the Greenmother glowing like beacons amidst the darkness. 

“ **You will** **_not_ ** **allow him near my daughter** ,” Dream was saying. “ **I will not suffer any threat to her safety.** ”

“You think I would allow anything to happen to my granddaughter so soon after learning she was even alive?” the Greenmother retorted. “I do not intend to allow _anything_ to disturb the ceremony.”

“ **Yet you are permitting him into the Coven** ,” Dream replied, his voice beginning to thunder.

“Dad!” Darcy called, and Dream’s head whipped around towards her. She went straight up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his soft, black t-shirt, and breathed in his scent of lightning and petrichor. “I’m so glad you came.”

The shadows lessened, Darcy’s ploy successful, and he gingerly looped one arm around her shoulder. “ **I am happy to see you safe, Darcy** ,” he said softly. “ **I was… concerned… when I heard what transpired earlier.** ”

“I’m fine. We’re all fine,” Darcy assured him. This was the first time she could remember that he called her by her name instead of ‘Daughter.’

“ **I do not wish Baldr Odinson to attend the ceremony,** ” Dream announced. “ **I do not believe it is safe.** ”

“He has to, Dad,” Darcy replied. “If he’s not here to witness it, then he won’t revoke the Law of Blood and then Baldr will kill Sleipnir.”

“He could _try_ ,” Hnoss said viciously, clenching her hands into fists. “Anyone comes close to that boy and I will rip their innards out.”

Darcy blinked a few times in the face of her sister's venom. “Well, _yes_ , obviously.”

Dream tilted his head, the silver stars in the hollows of his eyes unreadable, as usual. He pulled Darcy closer and dropped his voice to barely louder than a whisper. “ **Have you not told the Greenmother you are pregnant?** ”

“No,” Darcy whispered back. “And I’d rather no one else know for the moment.”

He nodded. “ **Very well** .” Then, louder, “ **I will allow Baldr to attend, but Darcy is not to be left alone, not even for a moment, until Baldr has left the Coven.** ”

“I won’t let her out of my sight,” Hnoss promised. Dream turned to face her, towering over the much-shorter Vanir.

“ **I put my daughter in your care, Hnoss Óðrdóttir,** ” he said gravely. “ **Should any harm befall her, I will hold you responsible.** ”

“Dad!” Darcy protested, but Hnoss put her hand on Darcy’s arm. 

“You are my sister, Gersemi,” she said fiercely. “I will defend you with my life.”

“That _won’t_ be necessary,” Darcy insisted. “I can take care of myself.”

“It is very bad fortune for a bride to kill anyone on the eve of her wedding,” the Greenmother observed dryly. “If Baldr breaks the sacred laws of the Coven, he will be dealt with accordingly.”

“Sounds great,” Darcy said quickly, and tugged at the edge of Dream’s cloak. “Dad, I want you to come meet Cece, my foster mom. I told you about her, remember?”

“ **I remember everything,** ” Dream replied, allowing her to pull him away. He probably didn’t mean for it to sound that ominous.

Probably.

By the time Darcy led Dream over to where she had left Cece and Jane, Jane had set up a mobile research station and had somehow recruited Jesse to help her. He stood a few steps away, holding out a handheld exotic particle reader while Jane typed furiously on her laptop.

Darcy stopped next to Cece. “How is he not completely bugging out right now?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Cece replied, staring wide-eyed at Dream, who stood behind Darcy, patiently waiting for an introduction. “The young lady who came to get us said something to him and he’s been perfectly calm ever since.”

“I’ll have to ask her what she did,” Darcy said. “It might come in handy later.”

“Yes. Yes it would. Who is this, Dee?”

“Right. Uh… mom, this is my biological father. He’s got a lot of names, but you can just call him Dream. Dad, this is Dr. Cecily Simmons, my foster mom.”

Dream offered one salt-white hand for Cece to shake. “ **It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Dr. Simmons.** ”

“Likewise,” Cece said slowly, eying Dream suspiciously. With his ageless features and casual attire, Dream didn’t look much older than Darcy, and certainly not old enough to have two adult children. “Is Daniel going to be coming, too?”

“ **He is attending to his duties at the moment** ,” Dream replied solemnly. “ **But he will be in attendance tomorrow.** ”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Cece said weakly, and then leaned over to Darcy. “What exactly kind of ‘duties’ does Daniel have?”

“Daniel handles a lot of Dad’s responsibilities actually,” Darcy said. “The Dreaming requires constant monitoring, plus all of the denizens have to be corralled or they go haywire. They got a taste of freedom about a hundred years ago and they’ve been cranky ever since.”

“Denizens?” Cece echoed cautiously, looking as if she _really_ didn’t want to know the answer.

“You know, dream denizens. Nightmares and fantasies and things.”

“O-oh,” Cece said. “That sounds… terrifying.”

Darcy grimaced. “Some of them are,” she said softly.

xXx

If Darcy thought things were going to get better, she was wrong. Very, very wrong. She finished her fitting with Lærke while Cece looked on (and cried discreetly), tried to pick between a hundred different flowers for the altar and archway, and cajoled Jane into being her shield-bearer.

Just as they were heading back to Cece and Jesse’s assigned nest to eat dinner, a commotion from the direction of the gate attracted their attention.

“What the hell is going on?” Darcy demanded, turning toward the noise.

“I’ll have someone check on it and let you know,” Hnoss said, tugging at Darcy’s sleeve. “You need to eat to keep up your strength. Tomorrow is going to be very long.”

Darcy pulled from her sister’s grasp. “That sounds like Loki’s voice,” she said.

“You aren’t supposed to see him,” Hnoss protested as Darcy took off at a jog toward the source of the noise.

Darcy didn’t care about traditions at the moment. She could hear Loki yelling and the anger in his voice. He was _furious_ , and she needed to know why. She found him a short distance from the gate, and she knew immediately why he was so angry.

Loki and Rook stood facing off with Baldr and a woman Darcy didn’t recognize. She looked about Loki’s age, with long, wavy, red hair and a green and gold dress that left her arms and shoulders bare. The woman had her hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a young pale-skinned, black-haired boy, who looked utterly terrified at the contact.

“Baldr, tell your whore to take her hands off my son,” Loki snarled as Darcy reached them.

The woman laughed, high and tinkling. “As I recall, you were more than happy to drink from this whore’s wine cup, Loki.”

Loki was so focused on Baldr that he didn’t even notice Darcy was there until she touched his arm. “What’s going on?” she asked softly. “Who is that woman?”

“That,” he spat, “Is Lorelei.”

Darcy frowned as she sized up Loki’s ex. “I thought she got banished or excommunicated or something.”

“She _did_ ,” Loki replied through gritted teeth. “She should not be allowed here.”

“She is not here as a Greenchild,” said Iðun, whom Darcy had not even realized was there. “She is part of Baldr’s entourage.”

“Entourage?” Loki barked. “ _What_ entourage?”

Another woman stepped through the gate, this one dressed in a gold cloak with a golden circlet in her strawberry-blonde hair. She gave Lorelei a frigid look. “Release the boy, Lorelei,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. Lorelei snatched her hand back as if she had been burned and the woman turned to look at Loki.

“My son,” she said softly, stretching her hands toward him. “I am _so_ happy you’re alive.”

Loki’s expression had gone slack, green eyes wide. As soon as Lorelei had released him, the boy shot over to Loki and threw his arms around Loki’s waist. Loki had to steady himself against the impact, but he held the boy close to him.

This was Sleipnir, Darcy realized, and then felt stupid because the similarities between him and Loki were unmistakable.

“Mother?” Loki whispered. “What are… Why are you here?”

“My son is getting married and you did not think I would be here?” she chided as she brushed past Lorelei to take Loki’s hand. She had to stand on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “My boy, nothing in all the realms could have stopped me. Though you might have told us a little sooner that you were alive.”

“I--I am sorry,” Loki stammered, rubbing Sleipnir’s back. “It was not my intention to cause you pain.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” the woman said gently, and then turned to Darcy. “You must be my son’s intended. I am Queen Frigga of Asgard, Loki’s mother.”

“Hi,” Darcy said, eyes wide. Frigga was _gorgeous_ . Like actually, undeniably _beautiful_. She didn’t try to hide her age, but rather embraced it, and she had certainly aged gracefully. “I’m Darcy.”

“Lady Darcy Gersemi,” Loki filled in. “Daughter of Freyja, daughter of Nerþuz the Greenmother.”

“Goodness. Baldr didn’t mention you were wedding a granddaughter of the Greenmother,” Frigga said, clasping her hands in front of her. She turned to give Baldr a disapproving look. He looked disgruntled in reply. “As fine a match as I could hope for.” She offered Darcy her hand. “I am overjoyed to welcome you to our family, and I’m sad that we haven’t had the opportunity to meet before this.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, feeling slightly dazzled and very overwhelmed. There were more people coming through the gateway, all of them in Asgardian attire, but Darcy’s entire attention was commanded by the Queen.

“I apologize about the unpleasantness,” Frigga went on. “I’m sure Lorelei didn’t mean to frighten the boy.”

“I’m sure she didn’t,” Loki muttered, glaring murder at the redhead. She smiled and flicked her hair in response. Frigga put her hand on Loki’s arm.

“Loki,” she warned in a low voice, her tone abruptly changing. “Don’t antagonize Baldr. You know how he gets. He takes his responsibilities very seriously.”

“Yes, and I’m sure he takes full advantage of them too,” Loki replied bitterly. “This is _my_ wedding, Mother. Why am I not to antagonize _him_?”

“Because sometimes we must hold our head high and not respond to the darts thrown in our direction,” Frigga said firmly, giving Loki a significant look.

Loki sighed heavily. “Yes, Mother.”

Frigga looked down at the boy. “This must be Sleipnir. Oh, Loki, he looks just like you.”

Loki, to Darcy’s surprise, angled his body to put himself between Frigga and the boy. “Yes,” he said sharply. “This is my _son_ , Sleipnir.”

Frigga seemed to diminish at Loki’s sudden hostility, her expression sad. “Of course. We should let you get back to your preparations. I’m sure you have a great deal left to do.”

“We do,” Loki said stiffly. “Iðun will see to your needs.” With that he turned and began to walk away, catching Darcy’s hand with his free one as he left. He did not speak again until they were out of hearing distance from the gate. He Knelt in front of Sleipnir, his hands spanning the boy’s narrow waist.

“Sleip, I am so sorry that happened,” Loki said earnestly. “I did not know that Lorelei was going to frighten you like that.”

“I wasn’t scared,” the boy protested. “But that lady wasn’t very nice,” he added, more subdued, and grabbed Loki’s hand.

“Yeah, babe. Your ex is a _bitch_ ,” Darcy agreed.

Loki gave her an annoyed look as he got back to his feet. “Thank you for that insight, my love. Please don’t use that language in front of the boy.” He looked down again. “Sleipnir, this is Darcy, who I told you of.”

“Hello, Darcy!” Sleipnir greeted cheerfully, still holding tightly to Loki’s hand. “You’re going to marry my mother!”

“That’s right!” Darcy replied. “Is that okay?”

Sleipnir narrowed his eyes. “Do you love him? My mother, I mean.”

“I love him very, very much,” Darcy said, and traced an X over her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Okay,” Sleipnir said. He wiggled and then hopped in place. “Can we go back to my lessons, Mother?”

“I’m afraid they are going to have to wait,” Loki said apologetically. “Why don’t you find Rook and have her teach you to throw darts?”

Once the boy was safely distracted with Rook, Loki turned to Darcy. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“I could hear how angry you were,” Darcy said, setting one hand on her hip. “I was worried.”

“I had the situation handled.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, unconvinced. “Sure you did. And I stand by my words. Lorelei is a raging _bitch_. You still shouldn’t have called her a whore, though.”

“No, I shouldn’t have,” Loki agreed. “I let my anger get the better of me. Baldr wanted Sleipnir to remain with him as a ‘guarantee of my good behavior.’”

Darcy took a deep slow breath so she wouldn’t obliterate the nearest structure with voidfire. “What _is_ your brother’s damage?”

“He has been given a taste of power,” Loki said. “And he will do whatever it takes to hold onto that power.”

Darcy took both of Loki’s hands in hers and went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth. “Hey. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this.”

“I’m beginning to have my doubts,” Loki said dryly.

“Look,” Darcy pointed out. “Your brother is here and he brought your ex. How much worse can it get?”


	25. A Gift, a Dream, and a Secret

Darcy’s stomach hurt. Hnoss had tried to convince her to eat something but she couldn’t swallow anything except water and a little honeyed fruit juice. Even Cece had tried to cajole her into eating some plain flatbread but Darcy wasn’t sure she could keep anything down and the last thing she wanted to do was throw up in the middle of her own wedding.

She wasn’t nervous about marrying Loki.  _ That _ part she was pretty confident about. She’d known him for less than a year but she knew she was crazy in love with him and he looked at her like she hung the moon and stars, so she was fairly certain he returned the favor.

No, what she was nervous about was Loki’s family meeting her family. Not her human family, or her mother’s side. But Dream had told her all the Eternals planned to attend, even Destiny, and Darcy couldn’t shake the feeling something very, very bad was going to happen.

Also Darcy wasn’t thrilled her fiance’s ex was attending, too. Darcy had had no more interactions with Lorelei, which was probably a good thing, or else Darcy would have tried to wipe that stupid smirk off the other woman’s face.

So it was that Darcy stood in the dress-maker’s shop while Lærke and Hnoss literally stitched her into her wedding dress. It had come out better than she could have imagined. The under-dress was a deep green silk shift with ribbon-thin straps and a sweetheart neckline. The over-gown had a yoke made of molded gold metal, shaped to fit perfectly over her shoulders and collarbone. The dress itself was five layers of a chiffon-type fabric in pale green that flowed around her as if it was in zero gravity. Her dress was sleeveless, but a light, knee-length cloak attached to the metal yoke with emerald fasteners. A crown of apple blossoms and white ribbons went on her unbound hair, and she wore gold bands around her wrists and biceps.

Darcy studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, turning from side to side to examine the details of the dress.

“Are you pleased?” asked Lærke, sounding a little nervous.

“It’s incredible,” Darcy assured her. “I love it. But…”

“Yes?”

“How am I supposed to get out of it?”

Lærke laughed, long and loud. “Oh, child. I imagine your groom will rip it off of you.”

Darcy blushed bright red at the older woman’s crassness, her hand brushing across her stomach. It would be months and months before she would even begin to show. For now there was no indication she was pregnant.

A shotgun wedding with a pregnant bride. Not exactly what Darcy had pictured.

There was a knock on the shop door and then Jane poked her head in. “Are you almost re-- oh, my  _ god _ , Darcy! You look  _ amazing _ !”

“Thank you,” Darcy replied with all the enthusiasm she could muster.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Jane demanded, stepping into the shop. She was wearing a very elegant and simple gown in golden color that made her skin look like it was glowing.

“Yeah,” Darcy said quickly, smoothing down the front of her skirt. “I’m fine. Just… butterflies, you know?”

Jane nodded sagely and Hnoss looked confused. “You wish to have butterflies at the ceremony?” she asked.

“No, no. Um… ‘butterflies in your stomach’ is a human idiom for that fluttery feeling you get when you’re nervous,” Darcy explained.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, my child,” Lærke told her. “Everything has been done and taken care of. All that is left is to swear your vows.”

“You clearly don’t know my family,” Darcy said dryly. “I swear they create drama just for the fun of it.”

Lærke scoffed. “The Eternals are subject to flights of fancy as all living beings are, for all their talk of detachment.”

“Tell me about it,” Darcy muttered. “Desire is going to be here, and I do  _ not _ want them anywhere near me.”

“Desire is the one who gave you to Gertrude, aren’t they?” Jane asked, walking in a circle around Darcy, occasionally reaching out to touch her dress.

“Yup.”

“You ever find out why?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you could use this as an opportunity to find out why.”

“I could,” Darcy agreed reluctantly. “But I just found out my mother committed suicide right before giving birth to me, so I think I’ve had enough family history for a while.”

Jane stopped in front of Darcy and hugged her carefully. “I’m sorry, Darce. I can’t imagine what hearing that was like.”

“It was tough,” Darcy admitted. “I just wish I knew why.”

Jane had no answer for her, and neither did Hnoss. But they were happily distracted from the painful conversation by the arrival of word that the ceremony was ready to begin.

Neither Darcy nor Jane, as her shield-bearer, carried bouquets of flowers. Instead, Darcy carried three bonding ribbons and Jane carried a ceremonial dagger in a jeweled sheath. Darcy did not walk down an aisle and no one gave her away. Instead, she was escorted by Jane and Hnoss directly to a stone dais where the altar and archway waited.

Loki was already there, standing under the arch with Rook at his side. He wore an emerald-green tunic embroidered with gold leaves and a forest-green cloak decorated around the neck and shoulders with glossy, blue-black feathers. He wore a crown of oak leaves with a pair of elk antlers rising from above his temples.

The guests were not allowed onto the lawn in front of the dais until Darcy and Loki were both standing under the arch. The Asgardians kept themselves separate from the Greenchildren, who clustered around Cece and Jesse. And off to the side, still and silent and alone, stood the six Eternals. 

Darcy found Baldr among the Asgardians, and saw him cast several confused and nervous looks at the Eternals as if wondering why they were there. It was rare enough to see  _ one _ Eternal, but to have all  _ six _ gathered in one place… Darcy smiled tightly at the thought of what was going through Baldr’s head. Then her gaze fell on Lorelei and her smile faded.

Lorelei stared at Loki with a hungry, calculating look in her eye, a look that Darcy did not trust at all. She was like a snake evaluating the size of its prey, calculating how easy it would be to swallow it whole. Darcy felt a sudden surge of jealousy and possessiveness. The bitch better not make a move on her man, or she might find that pretty red hair of hers going up in smoke.

The ceremony began when the Greenmother arrived. Later, Darcy wouldn’t remember much of it. It was conducted in Old Norse, the native language of the Nine Realms, and Darcy’s grasp on Norse was still shaky. She managed to recite her vows without stumbling over her words, but she couldn’t remember exactly what she said.

The Greenmother tied the end of one ribbon to Darcy’s wrist and the other to Loki’s, leaving about two feet of slack between them. The second was wrapped around their clasped hands and the third was draped around their shoulders. Only the one around their wrists would remain tied until the marriage was consummated, the proof Baldr required that Loki had been granted asylum by the Coven.

After the ceremony, tables were carried onto the lawn, covered in cloths and then laden with food. There were no chairs, no seating arrangements. The guests were intended to mingle at will, but remained in their tight groups.

Loki placed a cup in Darcy’s hand and filled it from a clay jug. “It’s only juice,” he assured her. “I do not suggest you try the wine.”

“God, no,” Darcy said quickly. “I know better than to drink while I’m pregnant.”

“And it would be best to keep your wits about you,” Loki added.

Daniel was the first to approach them. He wore Asgardian formal robes in blue with his black cloak over it, and handed Darcy a small, square box wrapped in garish paper. “Congratulations,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Don’t hurt her,” he told Loki.

“I have no intention to,” Loki assured his new brother-in-law.

Darcy tore the paper off the gift and found herself holding a carved wooden box, about the size and shape of a cigar box. It had a latch but no keyhole, just a tear-drop shaped metal panel. “It’s beautiful, thank you Daniel,” she said. “What is it for?”

“It will only open with your thumbprint,” Daniel explained. “And it can’t be destroyed by mortal means. Once you put it down, only you can pick it up, and it’ll hold whatever you put in it.”

“That’s incredible. Did you make this?”

“Yeah. Dad taught me how to make things like that when I was a kid. It became a sort of hobby.”

Darcy hugged her brother. “I love it.” 

Death was the next one to greet them. She hugged both of them even though Loki looked nervous at her touch. She gave them a baby blanket made of an incredibly soft gray fabric that shimmered blue and purple in the sunlight. Loki quickly stored it away in the ether before anyone could ask why Death had given them a baby blanket of all things.

To Darcy’s surprise, Baldr approached them with a cup in his hand. “Drink to your health, brother,” he said to Loki, raising the goblet. Loki toasted him with his own cup and they both drank. Then Baldr turned to look Darcy up and down again, his gaze demeaning. “Let’s hope this one keeps you satisfied.” Loki bristled but before he could reply, Dream arrived.

“ **Grindalokki** ,” Dream greeted, and then turned his silver gaze on Baldr. “ **Speak in such a manner to my daughter again, and you will beg me never to sleep again.** ”

Baldr paled and swallowed thickly. “This is your… daughter?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“ **Yes** ,” Dream replied, his voice little more than a growl. “ **Mine… and Freyja’s.** ”

Darcy curtsied, her smile sickly sweet. “Darcy Gersemi, Goddess of secrets and Scion of the Endless,” she said. “Pleased to officially meet you.”

“The honor is mine,” Baldr sputtered, and beat a hasty retreat.

“Thanks for not causing a scene, Dad,” Darcy said quietly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek.

Dream had not yet torn his gaze away from Baldr, who was now frantically whispering to Lorelei. “ **He deserves far worse than to be embarrassed.** ”

“Yes, but it’s my wedding, and I’d like everything to go smoothly,” Darcy replied.

Dream looked away from Baldr at Loki. “ **You will care for my daughter with your own life,** ” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “ **You will be loyal to her and only her, above all others.** ”

“I swear it,” Loki said solemnly, his left hand over his heart.

“ **Very well** .” Dream turned once more to Darcy. “ **I have given you cloak and mirror and dagger. These are your tools and your sigil. I have one more gift for you.** ” He took Darcy’s unbound hand and placed a small uncut crystal on her palm. She recognized it immediately as a dream, or at least a memory of one.

“Whose is it?” she asked softly.

“ **It was your mother’s,** ” Dream told her. “ **From the night she learned she was with child. Our child. She dreamed of you and who you might become.** ”

Darcy closed her fingers around the dream. “Thank you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

“ **She loved you dearly,** ” Dream said. “ **She would be proud of you today.** ”

Darcy couldn’t reply through the sudden onslaught of tears, and Dream left so Loki could help her regain her composure. Music started playing from somewhere and a few of the Greenchildren began to dance.

“I want to talk to Cece for a minute,” Darcy told Loki once she had stopped crying. Her mother’s dream went into the box Daniel had given her, which Loki then stored away with the baby blanket. There would be other gifts as well, but those would be taken to their nest to be examined later.

Cece and Jesse stood in a quiet corner, sharing a plate of finger-foods.  _ Hi Jesse _ , Darcy signed. 

_ Hi Darcy _ , Jesse signed back, not meeting her gaze.  _ You married now _ .

_ Yes _ , Darcy replied.  _ How are you? _

_ Okay okay _ , Jesse signed, repeating the gesture to let Darcy know he was sincere.  _ Food good _ .

_ I not try yet, _ Darcy admitted. 

“You should try to eat  _ something _ , baby girl,” Cece urged. “You need to keep your blood sugar up.”

“My stomach is still in knots,” Darcy replied, craning her neck to see over the crowd. “I don’t think I’ll be able to relax until Lorelei leaves. Speaking of which; Loki, where is Sleipnir?”

“He’s with Iðun,” Loki said. “She’s been instructed not to let anyone take him away from her except me.”

“What if Baldr pushes the issue?” Darcy asked worriedly.

Loki raised his eyebrow. “Then Iðun has been instructed to defend herself and the boy.”

Darcy wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but Loki seemed confident in the boy’s safety, so Darcy chose to leave it at that.

“And Sleipnir is… your son?” Cece asked.

“Yes,” Loki replied with a polite smile. “I had him quite young.”

“Is Lorelei his mother?” Cece asked in confusion.

“No,” Loki said firmly. “I was… involved… with Lorelei after I separated from my first partner.”

“I see,” Cece said softly. “I think it’s really rude of your brother to invite her if the two of you parted on bad terms.”

Loki shrugged. “He is entitled to bring an entourage of his choosing, as the king regent of Asgard.”

Cece was about to ask another question when a voice rose above the murmur of the crowd. “LOKI! You snake-tongued bastard! Where are you?!”

Darcy flinched at the booming voice and grabbed Loki’s hand. “Who the  _ hell _ is that?” she demanded.

“That,” Loki said, resigned to his fate, “Is Volstagg.”

Four figures shouldered their way through the crowd, Asgardians and all wearing armor. The largest one, sporting a massive reddish beard and an equally girthy waistline, clapped Loki on the shoulder hard enough to cause him to stagger under the blow.

“First you fall in battle, then we hear you are alive, and now you are wed!” the giant bellowed. “What sort of friend are you, eh? What have you to say for yourself, Silvertongue?”

“I grew tired of Hogun’s constant chatter and faked my death to escape him,” Loki replied glibly, earning him a glare from the dark-haired newcomer.

“But wed to such a beauty!” exclaimed the blonde male, bowing and catching Darcy’s unbound right hand. He brushed his lips over her knuckles, giving her a sultry look from his glittering blue eyes. “And how did you come to win a bride so far above your station in both looks and grace?”

“By not talking as if she wasn’t here and couldn’t hear you,” Darcy said, delicately extricating her hand from his grasp. “Friends of yours, Loki?”

Loki gestured toward the Asgardians. “May I present the Warriors Three: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun. And Lady Sif Hœnirdóttir, Shieldmaiden of Asgard.” He placed his hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “My friends, this is my wife, the Lady Darcy Gersemi, daughter of Freyja, daughter of Nerþuz the Greenmother; Goddess of Secrets and Scion of the Endless.”

“Scion of the Endless?” Lady Sif spoke for the first time, giving Darcy a hard look. “You are a child of one of the Eternals?”

“Yes,” Darcy replied, raising her chin. “Dream, to be exact.”

“Well, that explains why they are here,” Fandral said, stroking his short beard. “I was worried there for a moment. It’s generally never a  _ good _ thing when all of them are gathered.”

“It usually means some sort of catastrophe,” Volstagg agreed.

“Speaking of catastrophes,” Hoguns said softly, nodding toward something over Loki’s shoulder.

Darcy turned to look. “Shit,” she muttered as Lorelei made her way over the lawn toward them.

“Well, best wishes on your marriage,” Fandral said cheerily, doffing a cap he was not wearing. “I hope you have a long and productive night!” He winked and laughed, and then hustled the other three away.

“Mom, you mind giving us a moment?” Darcy asked quietly. “I don’t want Jesse getting upset.”

“Of course,” Cece replied with a frown. “I’m going to find Dr. Foster. She’s probably off studying something.”

“Probably,” Darcy agreed. “That’d be great. Thanks, Mom.”

“Well hello, Loki,” Lorelei purred as she reached them. “Wedded bliss suits you.”

“Thank you, Lorelei,” Loki replied stiffly. “We are both very happy indeed.”

“Yes, I can see,” Lorelei said, amused. She gave Darcy a lingering, intense look. “So. You are the daughter of Freyja. I’m surprised to see you so grown. Were you not born just two decades past? You should be a babe in arms.”

“I take after my father,” Darcy said tersely, trying not to let Lorelei’s tone get to her.

Lorelei glanced over at the circle of Eternals. “Lord Draumr, isn’t it? Imagine that. I haven’t heard of an Eternal bearing offspring in an age, at least.”

Darcy smiled tightly and didn’t reply.

“It seems you finally found a match worthy of your… tastes,” Lorelei went on, turning back to Loki. “I did not think you would find anyone who matched your standards.”

“It was less difficult than you might imagine,” Loki said mildly, pulling Darcy to his side and wrapping his arm around her waist. This positioning forced Darcy’s left arm behind her, but not in an uncomfortable manner.

“It’s such a shame that Freyja couldn’t be here,” Lorelei pouted prettily, batting her eyelashes at Loki. “She was  _ such _ a good friend to you. And I’m sure she would be overjoyed you were marrying her  _ baby _ daughter.”

Darcy recognized the crystalline ringing in her ears and what it meant. She took a deep breath and recited Loki’s mantra in her head once before answering. “I’m sure she would be,” she agreed with a smile as fake as it was bright. “She would want me to be happy.”

Desire appeared without warning behind Lorelei, a lit cigarette between their fingers. They blew a cloud of smoke at the back of Lorelei’s head. “Scram, little girl,” they said in a smooth, cultured drawl. “I want a moment with my niece. And my nephew.”

Lorelei didn’t dare argue with an Eternal, and left with what grace and dignity she had left. Desire eyed Darcy with shrewd, golden eyes for a moment. Today they must have felt more masculine, as they wore a navy blue mens suit with no shirt, flat chest bare under the suit jacket. Their glossy black hair fell in perfect ringlets to their shoulder. 

“Hello Niece,” Desire said, and took a drag from their cigarette. “You have questions for me.”

Darcy blinked a few times in rapid succession. “Yes. Yes I do. Starting with what the  _ fuck _ did you think you were doing, giving me to Gertrude?”

“You needed to disappear,” Desire said with an uncaring shrug. “She served that purpose.”

Darcy stepped forward, her hands balled into fists. “Did you  _ know _ ?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Did you  _ know _ what she would do to me?”

“I can’t see the future, love,” Desire said, tossing their hair over their shoulder. They puffed on their cigarette again. “I’m not Destiny.”

Darcy clenched her teeth on the nasty retort that tried to force its way up her throat. “Why did my mother kill herself? Do you know  _ that _ at least?”

  
Desire’s golden eyes glittered. “Yes, of course I know  _ that _ .” They blew a cloud of smoke from their nostrils. “She killed herself to save you.”


	26. A Cold Day in Hel

“How does that even make sense?” Darcy demanded of her aunt/uncle.

Desire blinked their golden eyes languidly. “Life doesn’t make sense, Niece. And neither do curses.”

“A curse?” Loki demanded sharply, speaking for the first time.

“SIBLING.” Destiny walked toward them, his hood drawn over his blind eyes and his book chained to his wrist. “YOU KNOW THERE ARE THINGS OF WHICH YOU MUST NOT SPEAK.” 

Desire rolled their eyes and reached into their pocket, pulling out a small bottle of fragrance. “For whatever you so  _ desire _ ,” they said, pressing it into Darcy’s hand. Then they turned and sauntered off, hips swinging. 

“What curse?” Loki demanded of Destiny. “Who cast it?”

Darcy could feel the weight of Destiny’s stare despite not being able to see his eyes. “SUCH THINGS ARE NOT YET FOR YOU TO KNOW. ALL WILL BE REVEALED IN TIME, IF IT IS YOUR FATE FOR IT TO DO SO.”

Darcy growled in frustration and resisted the urge to snatch off her flower crown and beat Destiny with it. “Why are all of you making this so  _ hard _ ?” she groaned. “I just want to know what happened to my mother!”

“AND IF YOU KNEW TODAY, IT WOULD ALTER THE COURSE OF YOUR FUTURE,” Destiny informed her. He held his book protectively to his chest. “A FUTURE I CANNOT ALLOW TO CHANGE, FOR IT DECIDES THE FATE OF US ALL.”

Darcy stared at him, wide-eyed. “Well,  _ that’s _ not ominous or anything.”

“IT IS MERELY THE TRUTH,” Destiny replied mildly. He held out his free hand. In his palm rested a small dropper bottle, filled with an oily, brown liquid. “FOR YOUR GREATEST HOUR OF NEED.”

Darcy took it cautiously. “Thank you.” She didn’t dare ask what it was.

Despair was the next to approach them. Darcy had been dreading this the whole day. Despairs squat, obese figure, her gray, scarred skin, and her nudity all creeped Darcy out. But when her aunt waddled in their direction, Darcy waited politely to greet her.

“No one ever wishes to receive a gift from Despair,” the Eternal said in a low, sad voice. “This is a day of joy. There should be no despair here.”

Darcy didn’t reply, unsure of what she would even say. Despair took Darcy’s hand in both of hers. Her skin was clammy and unpleasant. “When you are in your greatest moment of despair, this will show you what you need,” Despair said, pressing a cold, hard object into Darcy’s hand. Then she waddled away, muttering to herself.

Darcy looked down at the object in her hand. It was a stone, roughly circular and matte black. There was a hole through the middle, large enough for her to hold up to her eye and see through. “What is it?” she asked Loki.

He poked it gingerly with one finger. “I believe it is a scrying stone,” he said warily.

“A scrying  _ stone _ ?” Darcy asked. “I thought you used a mirror to scry.”

“A mirror is generally preferred,” Loki agreed. “A mirror shows you what you  _ wish _ to see. A stone shows you what you  _ need _ to see.”

“I need to see how my mother died,” Darcy said, and began to lift the stone to her eye.

“No!” Loki exclaimed, and snatched the stone from her. “Using a stone drains your life force. And it still doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, then how  _ does _ it work?” Darcy demanded, holding her hand out. He placed it gingerly in her palm.

“A more knowledgeable teacher than I would be best,” he told her. “For now, keep it somewhere safe.”

“Give me my box then.”

Darcy put the gifts from her father’s siblings in Daniel’s box along with Dream’s gift, and she was about to hand it back to Loki for safekeeping when Delirium drifted over. Her head was shaved bald today, and she wore a dress made of ribbons in a hundred different colors. Goldfish swam around her as if through invisible water, and she was crowned with a wreath of living, fluttering butterflies.

“Weddings are supposed to be happy,” she announced, her mismatched eyes not focusing on anything in particular. “Happy times…” Her voice trailed off. “Sometimes they are not so happy. Watch out for serpents.” She pulled a ribbon from her dress, a green one, and offered it to Darcy. “For when you need to be happy. Or at least forget that you are sad.”

Darcy took the ribbon cautiously. When she touched it, it writhed as if it was alive and coiled around her wrist, tying itself in a knot. She didn’t try to yank it off, though she badly wanted to. “Thank you, Aunt Delirium,” she said, forcing herself to sound polite.

“Oh, you can call me Del,” Delirium said brightly. “Everybody does. Enjoy yourselves!” She floated off to join a line of dancing Greenchildren, singing in a high, clear voice in a language Darcy didn’t recognize.

“What is that?” Loki asked, brushing his fingertips over the ribbon. A jolt of heat stabbed through Darcy’s stomach when his skin met hers and she abruptly remembered that this was her  _ wedding _ . She was  _ married _ . She looked up at Loki. Her  _ husband _ . He stared back down at her from hooded eyes, his hand lingering on her wrist.

“Hey,” Darcy said breathlessly. “What d’you say we get out of here?”

Loki’s pupils dilated, swallowing up his pale, green-gold irises. “I would very much like that,” he said in a husky voice that made Darcy’s stomach flip over. He linked their bound hands and tugged her to follow him. “I know just the place.”

They managed to escape the feast without attracting notice, though there were one or two close calls. Loki led her to one of the giant trees whose roots were a tangled mess that stretched out for fifty or so feet in every direction. He ducked under one root, pulling her along behind him, and they emerged in an open-roofed chamber total enclosed by living wood.

“Wow,” Darcy said, craning her neck back to look up at the vine canopy overhead. It was in full bloom with a riot of colored flowers, a feat that had taken a dozen witches all night to achieve, according to Hnoss. “This is so  _ cool _ !”

Loki hooked an arm around her waist and spun her off her feet, pressing her up against the smooth bark of the tree. Her short cloak protected her back and delicate dress. Loki covered her mouth with his, slipping his tongue past her lips to mingle with hers. She looped her arms around her neck, arching her back to press her body against his. She was  _ married _ . This was her  _ wedding night _ . She planned on enjoying it to the fullest.

Loki brushed his thumb over her nipple, a sensation she felt even through the layers of her dress. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, licked a stripe up the side of her neck and suckled her earlobe. When she shivered at the attention, he pinched her nipple hard enough to make her yelp and yank his hair in retaliation. He laughed and kissed her again, slow and languid, exploring and tasting, happy to enjoy the moment.

And for a while it was enough, shared breaths and mingled tongues and the taste of each other’s mouth. But there was a heat building in Darcy’s belly and between her thighs and she was not interested in ignoring it. She bucked her hips forward, searching, and he obligingly pressed his thigh between hers, giving her something to grind against. But that didn’t satisfy her for long.

“Are you gonna make a move, or are you waiting for an invitation?” Darcy breathed into Loki’s ear as he sucked bruises onto the side of her throat. He growled in response and surprised her by dropping to one knee.

“You are my  _ wife _ ,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. “That is all the invitation I need.” He slipped his hands under her skirt, skating his palms up the outside of her legs.

“And just  _ what _ do you plan on doing?” Darcy demanded. The ribbon binding their wrists together had pulled taut for a moment, but now his hands were on her bare thighs, her skirt hiked up above her knees, and there was plenty of slack.

“Whatever I wish,” he replied with a truly evil smirk. He slipped one hand behind her thigh and hooked her knee over his shoulder. Darcy steadied herself against the tree behind her. “And for however long I wish to.”

She pulled his hair again. “Well, then get busy. I don’t have all night.”

“Oh, but you  _ do _ ,” Loki purred, and made her panties disappear with a tingle of magick that made her gasp. He dipped a finger into her hot, slick center, causing her to jerk at the surprise. He laughed again and lowered his face, nuzzling the curly hair between her thighs. Then he flicked his tongue against her clit, just a teasing, tantalizing sensation.

“ _ Fuck _ , Loki,” Darcy gasped.

“I intend to,” he replied with that same evil smirk. Darcy had the sudden urge to kiss it off of him but then his face was between her thighs again, his tongue against her clit and his finger inside her, curling, stroking, tasting, sucking. The heat built until her legs were shaking and she panted for air, her fingers tangled in his hair and his name on her lips. And when she climaxed, she swore she saw stars, the ground disappearing under her feet for a moment while she floated in pleasure.

“Oh, my  _ god _ ,” She whispered when she could speak again.

“Yes, my love?” Loki asked coyly, still kneeling at her feet, his mouth and chin wet and shiny. Darcy blinked at him for a minute, and then put her hands on his shoulders and pushed. He overbalanced and fell onto his back, the ribbon tying them together dragging her down on top of him.

“Well, hello,” Loki said with a grin.

“Shut up,” Darcy muttered, wriggling until she sat upright astride his hips. “It’s my turn.” She fumbled at the laces of his trousers until she got them undone. He was  _ not  _ wearing any underwear. He hissed, but not in pain, when she took him in her hand, and moaned when she sank down onto him. She kept her hands pressed to his chest so he would stay flat on his back. This was  _ her  _ turn.  _ She  _ was in charge now.

It was easier this time and she wasn’t exactly sure why, but there was no initial discomfort, no painful pressure. They fit together perfectly and when she began to move, gently and cautiously, the friction was exactly right. Loki breathed her name like a prayer, his hands gripping her hips with bruising strength as she rode him, the muscles in her thighs trembling. She canted her hips back, changing the angle slightly, and fireworks burst behind her eyes. Her rhythm stumbled for a moment but she found it again, sped up, seeking the release that would ease the tension building in her stomach and back and thighs.

Loki came first with a guttural cry but she was not far behind him, and she collapsed forward to lay on his chest, her face pressed against the side of his neck. The ribbon binding them together loosened and fell, untied, to the peat moss beneath them. Darcy fought to catch her breath, her skin feeling as if it was glowing.

Loki wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

She slapped his chest lightly. “ _ Yes _ . You know I did.”

“Hmm,” he hummed happily, rubbing her back. “Do you wish to rejoin the feast?”

Darcy pushed herself back upright. “Looking like this?” She snatched the crumpled flower crown off her head and shook it at him. “Everyone will know exactly what we’ve been up to.”

Loki’s eyes were hooded, his hands returning to Darcy’s hips. He was still seated inside her, and apparently still interested. “And? What of it?”

She ran one fingernail from behind his ear down the side of his neck to the collar of his tunic. “I’d rather stay here with you,” she replied, and rolled her hips down against his. Loki lost his breath for a moment.

“As you wish,” he said when the power of speech returned.

At the feast, Desire smiled into their cup and drank deeply.

xXx

“Darcy.”

She didn’t want to wake up. She was warm and comfortable and satiated in a way that had nothing to do with a full stomach.  _ “Darcy.” _ Loki grew more insistant, his hand now on her shoulder. “Wake up, beloved.”

Darcy groaned and tried to cover her head with a pillow, but Loki pulled it away. “Darcy, I need to show you something.”

She cracked open one eye and peered up at… “Loki?”

“Yes,” the woman replied. “It is still me.”

Darcy frowned, her brain still slow with sleep. “Why are you a girl?”

“Because the Greenmother doesn’t allow men to live at the Greencoven for long,” Loki replied. 

Darcy pushed herself up onto her elbow and peered closer at her… wife. The woman was still  _ obviously  _ Loki. The facial features hadn’t changed  _ that _ much. But the glossy black hair now fell almost to her waist and other…  _ features _ had clearly altered.

“Can I touch you?” Darcy asked. Loki looked nervous and shy, as if they hadn’t spent the entire night exploring every inch of each other. Again. She nodded, and Darcy reached out to coil a lock of hair around her finger, then brushed her thumb over the fuller lips. Loki’s tongue darted out to moisten the pad of Darcy’s thumb. Darcy traced the graceful line of Loki’s neck, the more-prominant collar bone, and down to her small breasts, circling one pink areola with her fingertip.

“What do you think?” Loki asked softly. “I can change it if you don’t like this form.”

“I think you’re  _ gorgeous _ ,” Darcy insisted, and sat up so she could kiss her. Loki’s lips were softer in this shape, but the taste of her mouth was the same, and under the musky smell of sex her skin still had the scent of bayberries and balsam. 

“I  _ love _ your hair,” Darcy said about half an hour later, laying next to Loki as she carded her fingers through the long locks. Loki lay on her back, skin dewed with sweat, her chest still heaving.

“Hmm,” was all Loki managed. Darcy grinned and wiped her mouth off on her shoulder. “You are… you are  _ quite  _ skilled at that.”.

Darcy laughed. “I’ve had some practice. You’re not half bad, yourself.”

Loki opened her eyes and turned her head toward Darcy. “You are attracted to this form?” she asked, her voice quiet and shy again. Darcy reached up to stroked her fingers down the side of Loki’s face.

“Honey, I’d find you attractive in  _ any _ form,” she assured Loki. 

Loki smiled and pulled Darcy down to kiss her. “Honey? You think I’m sweet?”

“The sweetest,” Darcy replied. “I love you.”

Loki kissed her again. “And I love you, wife.”

“Wife,” Darcy echoed. “We’re  _ wives _ . I  _ wifed _ you.” She picked up Loki’s left hand, pausing for a moment to admire the delicate fingers and short, rounded nails. “We should get you a ring.”

Loki frowned. “Because I am a woman?”

“No. On earth both partners wear rings after you get married,” Darcy explained. “It doesn’t have to look like mine. We can get one that suits you.”

“I’d like that,” Loki said. She rubbed the shaved side of Darcy’s head. “We should bathe. Morning meal will be served in the communal hall soon, and we will be expected to make an appearance.”

“Do we  _ have _ to?” Darcy whined. She palmed Loki’s breast, kneading it slightly. “I haven’t finished getting to know this shape yet.”

Loki kissed her quickly and deftly rolled out of reach. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Darcy watched as Loki fished around the nest for clothing, admiring the taut muscles in her wife’s thighs and buttocks, the gentle curves of her hips and waist, and she realized she had won the jackpot as a pansexual. Her spouse could literally take whatever shape struck her fancy that night.

Loki’s lack of body fat was even more obvious as a woman. She almost had a hungry, underfed look to her. Even the small layer of fat most women had on the stomach was absent, and her breasts were small enough to not need any kind of binding or support. She was still tall, easily reaching six feet, and she moved as gracefully as she did in a man’s body, perhaps even more so.

Loki retrieved a robe for herself and Darcy’s dream-cloak duster to wear to the bathing houses, where she was brutally efficient and rebuffed every one of Darcy’s efforts to start something. When they were finished, they found clothing in the wicker chests outside the hut, none of which consisted of a dress, to Darcy’s relief.

(Lærke had been wrong, though. Loki  _ hadn’t _ ripped her wedding dress off. He had carefully magicked it into the drawers in their nest safely in one piece.)

The communal hall erupted into cheers when they arrived, and Loki laughed and waved while Darcy blushed bright pink. Loki made her way over to the group of Asgardians sitting by themselves, stopped by Baldr, and threw the binding ribbons onto the table in front of him.

“Does this satisfy you, brother?” she asked.

Baldr gave her a sour look. “ _ Yes _ , fine. I revoke the Law of Blood. You have been granted asylum. But if you ever return to Asgard, you  _ will _ answer for what you’ve done.”

“I am sure your father will settle the matter to  _ everyone’s _ satisfaction,” Frigga said pointedly.

“Yes. I’m sure,” Loki agreed in a murmur.

“My dear Loki, I  _ much _ prefer you in this form,” Lorelei said with a sensual smile. She rose to her feet and reached out to touch Loki’s long, unbound hair. 

Darcy slapped her hand away.

The entire communal hall went dead silent, every eye on the three standing women. Lorelei’s eyes widened and she held her hand to her chest as if mortally wounded.

“Keep. Your hands. Away. From my  _ wife _ ,” Darcy growled.

Lorelei laughed, but it sounded forced. “Oh, Lady Gersemi. You need not fear for your  _ wife’s _ virtue. I have no intentions on it. I myself am spoken for as well. But I feel I should warn you, your spouse has a wandering eye. After all, it didn’t take long for her to forget her first love and turn to me for comfort. Isn’t that right, lover?”

Loki’s hand tightened on Darcy’s wrist until the grip was painful. “Have a safe journey back to Asgard, Lorelei,” she said in a tight voice. “I hope you enjoyed your time at the Coven. It will be the last time you are welcomed here.”

Lorelei’s eyes glittered. “We shall see.”

Loki turned on her heel and stalked away, Darcy almost refusing to follow. “I hate her I hate her I hate her,” Darcy chanted under her breath.

“In my defense, she was not this unpleasant when we were together,” Loki replied.

“I don’t care. I still hate her.”

They chose to sit with Rook and Sleipnir. Hnoss joined them, much to Loki’s surprise. She congratulated Loki on her nupitals and then proceeded to ignore all of them for the rest of the meal.

xXx

The Asgardian party left shortly after morning meal. Loki accompanied them to the gate. Once they were outside in the Greenwood, Heimdall would send the Bifrost for them. Frigga pulled Loki aside privately.

“I  _ am _ happy for you, Loki. You know that, don’t you?” she asked, wringing her hands together.

Loki took her hands to stop the nervous habit. “I do, Mother,” she assured her. Loki took a deep breath. “Why did you never tell me the truth, though?”

Frigga’s blue eyes widened. “The truth… so you know, then?”

“That I am not your true child?” Loki asked bitterly. “That I am a Jötun? Some dwarfish misbirth Odin must have plucked from the battlefield from among the slain? Yes, Mother. I  _ know _ .”

Frigga freed her hands and took Loki’s face gently. “My child, it is nothing like that. We both love you as one of our own. We didn’t tell you… because we didn’t wish you to feel different from your brothers.”

“Different?” Loki echoed in disbelief. She took a step backwards, gesturing to herself. “ _ Look _ at me, Mother! How could I  _ not _ feel different? You saw how Thor treated me! You saw how  _ Odin _ treated me. And now Baldr wishes me to stand trial for crimes I didn’t commit!”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Frigga protested. “Baldr is just… trying to make his own way in the world. It isn’t easy to be the third son of a king.”

“It isn’t easy being the second one, either,” Loki snapped. “ _ How _ did Baldr come to the conclusion I was the one who let the Jötnar into the weapons vault, anyway?”

“Heimdall led the investigation,” Frigga said, wringing her hands again. “He always finds out the truth, you know this.”

Loki sighed. “Nothing was taken,” she said. “I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“I know,” Frigga assured her. “And everything will return to normal when your father awakes.”

“He’s not my father,” Loki muttered sullenly.

“He will  _ always _ be your father,” Frigga insisted. “And he will always love you, as I do.”

Loki kissed her mother’s cheek. “You should go before Baldr becomes impatient.”

Frigga looked sad, but didn’t protest. “I will call for you when Odin awakes.”

Loki nodded but made no promises. She kissed her mother again and waved her away, watching until she disappeared through the gate.

It would be a cold day in Hel before Loki ever set foot on Asgard again.


	27. Disaster at Folkvangr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! How about all these updates, huh? Can you tell I'm procrastinating on working on Into The Unknown? Cause I'm not. Totally not. 
> 
> (Totally lying)
> 
> Anyway, glad you enjoyed the Royal Wedding (disaster)I Onward to the next angst-fest!

  
  


“Mama! Mama, look!”

Darcy looked up from the book in her lap, shading her eyes with one hand. Sleipnir stood knee-deep in the red water of the ocean, waving a large seashell over his head. Darcy smiled. “It’s beautiful, Sleip!” she called back.

Sleipnir splashed out of the water and across the black sand to throw himself on the blanket next to Darcy so he could show her the shell. It vaguely resembled a conch, deep purple on the outside and a pale, delicate pink on the inside.

“May I keep it?” Sleipnir asked eagerly. “Please, Mama?”

After six months of having a step-mother, Sleipnir decided one day that he did not wish to call Darcy by her name anymore, and switched to calling her “Mama.” Darcy had teared up the first time he’d done it, and never tried to discourage him. Loki, of course, was always “Mother.”

“Of course you can,” Darcy told him. “You can put it on the shelves in the living room with the others. You’re really good at finding shells, aren’t you?”

Sleipnir puffed out his narrow chest. Darcy  _ still _ couldn’t get over how much the boy looked like Loki. She wondered from time to time what the boy’s father had looked like, but after finding out that he was dead, she hadn’t dared ask.

Loki joined them a moment later, carrying a basket of food. They had been at the Waystation for the last two weeks, enjoying the mild weather and some time alone. Loki had decided that Sleipnir needed a break from his lessons and Darcy dearly wanted to spend some time with just the three of them, away from the bustle and close quarters of the Coven.

“What are you reading?” Loki asked as she sat down next to Darcy, She reached over and ruffled Sleipnir’s wet hair, matted down with saltwater. 

Darcy showed her the cover. It was a chronicle of the recent history of Asgard, from her father’s library. “Why do you have so many names?” Darcy licked her thumb and turned a few pages. “Here. ‘Silvertongue. Liesmith. The Raven. Blood-drinker.’  _ That’s _ disturbing. ‘Ring-winner.’ What does that mean? And this one: ‘He Who Calls The Darkness By Its Name.’”

Loki took the book from her and scanned the page briefly. “These aren’t even all of them. They forgot ‘The Spider In His Web’ and ‘Son of the Deep Winter.’”

“What do they  _ mean _ ?” Darcy asked. “And how did you get them?”

“Some were given to me,” Loki replied with a shrug. “Some I earned.”

“Why do you need so many?”

“It’s traditional on Asgard. As you accomplish great feats of valor, you collect names. Each of those names has a story behind it.”

Darcy blinked a few times at her wife. “You know, we’ve been together for a while now and I still know so little of your childhood. How the  _ hell _ did you earn the name ‘Blood-drinker’?”

Loki bared her teeth. “I used to go hunting with Thor and his friends. When we hunted leucrota in the lowlands, they would have me use my magick to corral and guide the beasts to Thor and his warriors. I myself never made a kill. Then one hunt, I did. My first kill during a hunt. Thor and Fandral mocked me, telling me that I must drink the blood of my first kill. Sif and Hogun protested, saying that none of them had ever done that. So I slit the throat of the beast and drank its heartblood. Thor had little to say after that.”

“Your childhood was so messed up,” Darcy replied flatly. “And I thought you were a vegetarian.”

“When I can be,” Loki corrected. “And this was before I went to the Coven.”

Sleipnir made a gagging sound. “I would never drink fresh blood,” he announced. He lifted his shell to his ear. “Mother! I can hear the ocean!” The boy held the shell up to Loki’s ear, who listened attentively.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “That is the ghost of the creature that lived in the shell, reminding you where it came from.”

“That’s so  _ cool _ ,” Sleipnir squealed, and Darcy laughed. It had not taken long at all for the boy to start picking up Darcy’s vocabulary. He left the shell with his parents for safekeeping and rang across the black sand to the water again.

“Loki, what would you think about me adopting Sleipnir?” Darcy asked softly.

Loki frowned, tilting her head in confusion. “Adopt Sleipnir?” she echoed. “Why?”

Darcy reminded herself that she and Loki came from different planets and that Loki probably didn’t mean that to be as hurtful as it was. “Well, since you and I are married, and I’m going to help you raise him, I thought we might make it official.”

“Did we not do so when we were wed?” Loki asked, still confused.

“Is that all it takes to adopt a child? Marry their parent?” Darcy asked.

“Well, in  _ this _ sort of case, yes. Sleipnir’s father is dead, so he cannot claim the child. If you claim the child before witnesses, then Sleipnir is considered yours.”

“I wish it were that easy on earth,” Darcy muttered. “If I claim Sleipnir, and we are married, does that mean Sleipnir is no longer a bastard?”

Loki grimaced. “Yes and no. It definitely makes his prospects better, but our daughter will be favored over Sleipnir when it comes to inheritance and title. Sleipnir will never be considered a prince of Asgard, but Helena may be a princess.”

“May?” Darcy echoed, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not sure?”

“It depends on what Odin does when he wakes up,” Loki replied dryly.

“It’s been over a year since he fell asleep,” Darcy pointed out. “Isn’t anyone worried?”

“I imagine Frigga is,” Loki said with another shrug. “And anyone who does not wish Baldr to inherit the throne.”

Darcy slipped her book into the pocket of her duster jacket. “In a contest between us of shitty families, I honestly don’t know who would win.”

“I would, by a large margin,” Loki said quickly. “You only have Gertrude. I have an entire family of idiots, liars, and blowhards.”

“Fair point,” Darcy admitted. She pulled a folded scrap of paper from her pocket. “Here. What do you think?”

Loki unfolded the parchment. On it had been sketched several drawings of a ring consisting of a golden band of oak leaves and a marquise-cut emerald. “Oh, I like this one,” she said softly, turning the paper so she could examine the design. “I like this one very much.”

Darcy beamed. “Excellent. It took me all night to get the leaves to look right.”

Loki smiled and handed the paper back. “And you’re certain you  _ don’t _ want me to make it?”

“You shouldn’t have to make your own wedding ring,” Darcy insisted, carefully stowing the paper in her pocket. “Even if it’s six months late.”

“I suppose you are ready to go to Fólkvangr, then?” Loki asked, reaching into the basket and pulling out their midday meal. “We can go tomorrow if you wish.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Darcy replied with a grin.

xXx

Fólkvangr was completely unlike anything Darcy could have possibly imagined. It was built on the edge of a huge mesa, the cliff face plunging down hundreds of feet to the forest floor below. The city itself sprawled for miles in every direction, inhibited only by the cliff wall.

Spires rose from the center of the city, made of gold and silver and crystal. Terraced gardens and massive fountains kept the air clean and crisp. The marketplace where the Way was located was open air, but shielded from the bright sunshine by massive automated umbrellas that opened when the sun was at its strongest.

The air was heavy with the smell of perfume and spices and cooking food. The market was busy but not overly crowded, and Darcy didn’t feel claustrophobic as they made their way through the stalls and shops. Sleipnir was delighted in everything, and Darcy kept a tight hold on his hand to keep him from wandering off.

Some of the shopkeepers called out to them, recognizing their clothing and Loki’s tattoos. “Sisters! Sisters! What news of the Coven?” Loki stopped for each of them and talked briefly about their concerns. She promised to send word along to the Greenmother.

One woman, dressed in threadbare clothing with a scarf wrapped around her face, tugged on Darcy’s tunic. “A fortune for a blessing?” she rasped, and then coughed. “A fortune for a blessing, Sister?”

“I beg your pardon?” Darcy asked, discreetly pushing Sleipnir behind her and away from the woman. 

The woman pulled her scarf down from her face. She had long, black dreadlocks, dark tan skin, and what appeared to be ritual scarring on her cheeks and forehead. Her irises were blood-red and her fingernails were black, pointed, and long.

“Give me a blessing of the Coven and I’ll read your heart-lines,” the woman begged. “Bless me, Sister. I am old and sick and I fear death.”

The woman did not appear old to Darcy, but Darcy knew that meant little to some races. “Death is nothing to be afraid of,” Darcy said gently. “She will make sure you aren’t alone.”

Loki backtracked when she realized her wife and son were no longer behind her. When she reached them, she pulled a small coin from storage and dropped it into the stranger’s supplicant palm. “Go with peace, grandmother,” she said firmly. “The blessings of the Coven be upon you.”

The woman’s eyes fixed on Loki with a strange intensity. “Thank you, Sister. May Destiny guide your path.” She bowed low and vanished into the crowd.

“Is she going to be okay?” Darcy asked. “If she’s sick, is there somewhere she can go?”

“There are healing centers available for all residents and visitors to the city,” Loki assured her. “And shelters where she can sleep and be fed. No one is forgotten or goes hungry in Fólkvangr.”

“They should come to earth and give America lessons,” Darcy said bitterly. Loki pulled her to her side and kissed her hair.

“There will be time enough for that one day, my dove. For now, let us find a metallurgist.”

The jewelry shops were clustered together at the center of the market where a ring of guards were stationed. Darcy rejected the first three shops they stopped at almost immediately for small but critical reasons. 

“It has to be  _ perfect _ ,” Darcy insisted. Loki laughed at her and they kept looking.

The fifth shop they examined showed promise. Darcy asked to look at a few pieces of delicate goldwork and then asked to see their unset stones. After about half an hour, Darcy pulled her sketches out of her pocket.

“I want to have this made,” she told the shopkeeper, a very short and very bald older gentleman with a pair of spectacles perched on his bulbous nose. He took the sketches and peered very closely at them, muttering under his breath.

“Yes, yes, I can do this,” he said at length. “This is not difficult. Gold? Silver? Giltium?”

“ _ Seidrgilt _ ,” Darcy said. “And I want a  _ vetr-grœn _ , not an emerald.”

“Darcy!” Loki hissed in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to have a ring equal to my bracelet,” Darcy told her, and turned back to the jeweler. “Can you do it?”

The jeweler’s black eyes glittered. “It will cost you, my sweet little lady. It will cost you dear, but I can do this for you.”

“Price isn’t a problem,” Darcy said. “I can pay whatever it costs.”

“Return here in five days, then,” the jeweler said with a satisfied grin. “I will have your ring for you.”

“And just  _ where _ do you think you will get the funds to pay for this?” Loki demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

Darcy smirked. “I’m the daughter of the Lord of Dreams, Loki. I can get whatever money I need.”

Loki shook her head. “What will your father think about you buying  _ seidrgilt _ rings?”

“My father doesn’t care what I spend his money on,” Darcy replied. “I know. I already asked him. He waved his hand and said, ‘Whatever you desire, Daughter.’ And I desire this.”

“Mother, I’m  _ hungry _ ,” Sleipnir interrupted, clearly bored by the conversation. “And after we eat, may we look at the weapons?”

“You don’t need a weapon,” Darcy said quickly.

Loki, however, looked contemplative. “He’s old enough for a knife, I think. I started training with my daggers around his age.”

“Loki!” Darcy exclaimed. “He is a  _ child _ !”

“A very resilient child,” Loki reminded her. “He’ll do himself no great harm with a simple knife.”

“Please, Mama?” Sleipnir turned his huge, dewy eyes to Darcy, hands clasped under his chin. “ _ Please _ ?”

Darcy sighed heavily. “Fine. If your mother thinks it’s safe.”

Sleipnir threw his arms around Darcy’s waist. “Thank you thank you thank you,” he gushed. “I love you!” Then he was gone, darting toward the food stands in search of the best aromas, Loki close on his heels.

Darcy stood frozen in place for a long moment, still in shock. That was the first time she had heard Sleipnir say anything like that to her. Her eyes watered and she had to sniff and wipe them away. She rested her hand against the almost invisible swell of her stomach. It might be a year and a half before her daughter was born, but apparently Darcy was already a mom.

xXx

“Here it is, just as you wished,” said the jeweler, handing Darcy a small wooden box. “ _ Seidrgilt _ and  _ vetr-grœn _ .”

Darcy opened the box and gasped. The jeweler had managed to capture exactly what Darcy had pictured in her head and struggled to get down on paper. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It will look even prettier on your lady’s finger,” the jeweler observed. “A gift to commemorate a naming day, perhaps?”

“No, our wedding,” Darcy explained. “We got married six months ago, but we couldn’t decide on a ring.”

“She must love you dearly and trust you greater to wed you without a betrothal gift,” the jeweler said, his bushy eyebrows climbing up his bald pate.

Darcy laughed. “She does. Now. Name your price.”

“Are you willing to part with that necklace you wear?” the jeweler asked, squinting at the wooden pendant around Darcy’s neck.

“No,” Darcy said quickly, reaching up to touch it. “This belonged to my mother.”

The jeweler nodded sagely. “Aye, and bespelled it is. Is it just your mother that can do that, or are you a Greenchild, also?”

“I’m not a Greenchild,” Darcy said. “But my wife is. Is that what you want in repayment? Spell work?”

“I make talismans,” the jeweler told her. “Designed for warding magicks. Protection against poisons, illness, and the like. When I sell them, my customers take them to the Green Temple to be spelled by the Sisters there. But if I had talismans already bespelled, I could turn a pretty profit. You see?”

“I see,” Darcy said. She reluctantly handed the ring back. “She went to take…  _ our _ son to get food. The boy eats like a horse. I’ll come back in a little while and she’ll spell those talismans for you.”

“Then the debt between will be settled,” the jeweler declared with a decisive nod.

Darcy left the shop and headed toward the tavern Loki had mentioned. She would never have been able to find it except that it had a skull impaled on a spear sticking up from the roof. Darcy found it repulsive, but Loki had shrugged and said that the food was exceptional.

When Darcy reached the tavern, she found Sleipnir standing outside the door, weeping uncontrollably. He threw himself at Darcy, clinging to her as if his life depended on it.

“Sleip, what happened?” Darcy demanded. “What’s going on, sweetie?”

“They took Mother,” Sleipnir sobbed. “They took Mother away.”


	28. A Cold Reunion

The mirror wasn’t working. No matter how hard she tried, all Darcy could see were faint, shifting shadows in the depths of the mirror’s dark surface. She straightened from where she was hunched over, placing her hand on the small of her back as she stretched. Her morning sickness hadn’t lasted very long, but she’d traded it for throbbing back pain.

“Anything?” Rook asked hopefully. Sleipnir cuddled against Rook’s side, clutching at Rook’s black tunic. Darcy tried not to be hurt by Sleipnir’s choice to seek comfort from Rook. The other woman had practically raised the boy, while he had known Darcy for half a year.

“No,” Darcy said in disgust, resisting the urge to fling the mirror down onto the wooden table in front of her. Not that the mirror would break. Darcy was pretty sure that, like her dagger, it was indestructible. “It’s like something is covering him, preventing me from seeing him. Is that possible?”

“It’s  _ possible _ ,” Rook said slowly, and shook her head. “Scrying is not my strongest skill. You should ask Hnoss.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said with a sigh. Her relationship with her half sister had improved greatly over the last six months, but Hnoss still tended to be very condescending any time Darcy asked her for help. The first thing she had done after determining that Loki was indeed gone was to get herself and SLeipnir back to the Coven. Traveling through the Dreaming alone with the boy had not been easy, and Sleipnir had been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d arrived, but Darcy had gotten them back relatively unscathed.

It had now been almost two days since Loki had disappeared. Darcy had scryed for hours looking for him. She’d scoured his skellig in the Dreaming and enlisted Daniel to look for any new dreams. She’d begged her grandmother for help. The Greenmother had been sympathetic and had promised to help look for Loki through her own methods, but Darcy couldn’t sit and do nothing while she waited.

“There are sorcerers and witches powerful enough to baffle even the strongest scrier,” Rook offered. “It does not necessarily mean Loki has come to harm.”

“Loki is  _ alive _ ,” Darcy snapped. “I  _ know _ she is.”

Rook hugged Sleipnir tighter to her side. “I know it, too,” she said softly. “Loki has been my friend since childhood. If she had perished, I would know.”

“But she  _ hasn’t _ , right?” Sleipnir asked in a nervous voice. He twisted to look up at Rook. “Right Auntie?” When Rook didn’t reply, he looked over at Darcy. “ _ Right _ , Mama?”

“She’s alive,” Darcy said again firmly. She tucked the mirror into the pocket of her duster jacket. “I think it’s time I talked to my Dad.”

“Your father is an Eternal,” Rook reminded her. “You know they can’t get involved in mortal affairs.”

“Unless family is involved,” Darcy pointed out. “And Loki is his… son-in-law. Daughter-in-law.  _ Whatever _ . The point is, Loki is his  _ family _ .”

Rook looked doubtful. “You know your family best, I’m sure.”

Darcy leaned forward and took Sleipnir’s hand. “Sleip, listen. I’m going to get your mother back, okay? I promise. No matter what it takes. I’ll get her back.”

Sleipnir squeezed her hand and nodded, his pale eyes huge and wet with tears. “I know, Mother.”

There was no time to waste, so Darcy got to her feet, pulled her hood over her hair, and stepped into the Dreaming. She emerged, unfortunately, in the Shifting Zones.

“Shit,” she muttered, looking around. “Why do I keep ending up  _ here _ ?” She shaded her eyes from the white, watery sun overhead and looked around. Nothing looked familiar, of course. It wasn’t called the ‘Shifting Zones’ for no reason.

A guttural growl at her feet made her yelp and jump back, dragging the tiny creature who had latched onto the hem of her duster along with her. It was a bright gold color, ugly and misshapen. It had a bulbous, too-large head, a pair of stubby wings, and two squat legs that ended in cloven hooves. Despite it’s fierce growl, it did not look threatening.

“Hey, there, little guy,” Darcy said, crouching down to get a better look at the little thing. “What are you supposed to be?”

It refused to release the hem of her duster, shaking its head like a terrier with a rat, and growled again. Darcy poked its back experimentally. It let go of her duster in order to snap at her finger, and Darcy pulled her hand back just in time to avoid it’s surprisingly sharp, white teeth.

“Spunky little bugger, aren’t you?” Darcy muttered. “Look, I don’t know if you can understand me, but I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I need to get to the palace.”

“Y--you’re a long w-w-way from the p-palace.”

Darcy jumped to her feet with a faint scream, casting around for the source of the voice. A very chubby man with spectacles and dark hair stood on the rocky outcrop above her, looking down at her and the creature.

“Y-you found G-goldie,” he went on, and began to pick his way down to them. “He g-g-got out this m-morning. I thought I’d lost him.”

“Goldie?” Darcy echoed, giving the little creature a dubious look.

“W-well, his n-name is really  _ Irving _ , b-but my b-b-brother said that g-gargoyles need a name that starts with ‘G’, so I c-call him G-G-Goldie,” the fat man explained. When he finally reached them, he squatted and picked up the baby gargoyle without issue. He straightened and blinked at Darcy from behind his thick glasses.

“W-who are you?” he asked.

“Darcy Gersemi,” Darcy said with a sigh. “I’m Lord Morpheus’ daughter.”

The man’s eyes went very large and very round. “Lord Dream’s d-d-daughter?!” he sputtered. “B-but what are you d-d-doing  _ here _ ?”

“I’m lost,” Darcy explained. “Whenever I try to get to the palace, I always seem to end up here. Can you help me?”

“N-n-no,” the man stammered, and Darcy groaned. “I m-m-mean, not  _ t-t-tonight _ ,” he went on. “It’ll be d-dark soon, and there are th-th-things that live in the d-d-dark.”

Darcy rubbed her forehead. “How long will it take to get to the palace? Can I get there before dark?”

The man shook his head. “No. It’s n-n-ot p-possible. The Shifting Zones are t-too dangerous at n-n-night. You c-can stay with m-me tonight and I’ll t-take you to the p-p-palace in the morning.”

Darcy hesitated. She had no idea who this man was, or if he was safe, or if he considered her father his sovereign. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“My n-name is Abel, your Highness,” the man said with an awkward bow. “From the f-f-first story.”

Darcy blinked twice. “You’re Eve’s son?” she asked. He nodded silently, cradling Goldie/Irving to his chest. She came to a quick decision. “Okay. Lead the way.”

Abel’s house was a tall, crooked structure perched on the edge of a cliff. It looked dilapidated and frankly haunted from the outside, but when Abel ushered her in, the interior turned out to be cozy in a sort of hobbit-hole-esque manner. It was lit solely by firelight and kerosene lamps; the walls were papered with yellowing designs, and every flat surface was covered by cushions, blankets, and books.

“Oh, it’s so  _ warm _ ,” Darcy said in relief as steam rose from her duster.

“I hate the c-cold,” Abel explained as he stoked the coals in the fireplace. “Would you like something t-t-to eat, y-your Highness?”

“Yes, thank you,” Darcy replied, not because she was hungry, but because she knew if she ate food that Abel offered her, they would both be bound by the Law of Hospitality, and they would be unable to harm each other without serious consequences.

Abel disappeared off to the kitchen after offering Darcy a seat in a wing-backed chair and a hand-knit blanket. He reappeared in a surprisingly short amount of time with a tray, which he set in her lap. He’d prepared her a cup of tea, a bacon and cheese sandwich, and a steamed tomato with baked beans.

“Thank you,” Darcy said sincerely. She ate a bit of everything and drained the cup of tea. “Do you live alone here?”

“I have m-my own house,” Abel replied. “It’s just me and G-Goldie here. B-but my b-b-brother C-Cain lives c-close by. We s-spend a lot of t-time t-together.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She glanced down and saw that her teacup had magically refilled itself, the liquid piping hot.

“Y-you have a b-brother, d-d-don’t you, your Highness?”

“It’s just Darcy, and yes, I actually have two. Daniel is my half brother, and Jesse is my foster brother.”

“D-do you get along with them, your High-- I m-mean, Darcy.  _ Miss _ Darcy.”

Darcy shrugged. “I suppose. I haven’t known Daniel for very long, and Jesse doesn’t really argue with anyone. I mean, he can sometimes get overwhelmed and overstimulated, but he can’t help it.”

Abel looked wistful. “T-that must be n-nice. T-to g-g-get along with your b-brother.”

Darcy winced. Of course. Cain and Abel. The first story. She could imagine that her host would not have the greatest relationship with his brother. “Tell me about Goldie. I mean, Irving.”

Abel instantly brightened. “Oh, isn’t he the c-c-utest?” he gushed. Darcy looked down to where the gargoyle was curled up on a cushion by the fire. It slept peacefully, its breath whistling from it’s over-large nostrils.

“Sure,” Darcy agreed, and sipped at her tea. “Where does he come from?”

“G-g-gargoyles live in the D-dreaming,” Abel explained. “C-Cain has always had a g-gargoyle to g-guard his house from n-nightmares. He g-gave Irving to me. W-wasn’t that nice?”

“Guard from nightmares?” Darcy asked. “There are nightmares just wandering around the Dreaming?”

“S-sometimes they escape the skelligs,” Abel said with a shrug. “M-m-mostly they end up here, in the Shifting Z-Zones. They’re t-t-terribly frightful.”

“Oy, vey,” Darcy muttered. “This place gets worse all the damn time.”

“D-don’t w-w-worry, M-miss Darcy,” Abel said, leaning forward to pat her knee. “N-nothing w-w-will hurt you as long as you s-s-stay inside the house.”

Darcy wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything else. Abel offered her a bedroom, but Darcy didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, so she asked for another pot of tea and assured him she would be perfectly comfortable in her chair by the fire. She hadn’t expected to doze off, but the warm blanket and the howling wind sent her right off. 

She didn’t dream.

xXx

Everything was wrong when Loki woke up.

Before he was fully alert, he knew that his body was  _ wrong _ , his magick was  _ wrong _ . Even the air around him was  _ wrong _ . He was almost afraid to open his eyes. When he did, he had to bite back a scream of horror.

His hands, bound together in front of him, were  _ blue _ . His fingernails were black and pointed and there were ridges on the back of his hands, forming a pattern he knew continued up his arms and over his entire body. He fought down a wave of nausea. Somehow the glamour Odin had placed on him had been shattered.

Then he noticed the manacles binding his hands together. They were made of blackened strands of metal twisted together to form rings around his wrists and fused together. He recognized them immediately. He tested them despite himself, reaching inward for his magick. Crippling pain stabbed up his arms from the manacles, forcing a groan from between clenched teeth.

“Yes. They  _ are _ thorn manacles,” said a voice behind him. 

Loki struggled to sit up and twisted. He was in a rocky cave. A blizzard raged outside, wind whipping snow and ice hard enough to sting and cut the skin, had he been exposed. Sitting in the back of the cave was a Jötun.

“I don’t enjoy the necessity of binding you this way,” the monster continued calmly. “But, unfortunately, you cannot be trusted.”

“Why would you say that?” Loki muttered, and flinched when he realized his teeth were now sharp and pointed, like a beast’s.

“I am fully aware of you who are, Grindalokki Silvertongue,” the Jötun said, crossing its arms over its bare chest. “And what you are capable of.”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Loki replied. He needed to regain his equilibrium, and quickly. One misstep, and there was nothing preventing this monster from killing him and eating his flesh.

“My name is Býleistr Laufeyson,” the monster said. “I am your brother.”

For a long moment, Loki’s brain could not comprehend the news. He would not,  _ could _ not, accept it. He had two brothers, and neither of them were this beast.

“That’s not possible,” Loki said flatly.

Býleister shrugged. “Believe it or not, it is the truth. You bear the clan markings of Laufey King, my sire and your progenitor. You were lost as a babe, during the war with Asgard, and Laufey has been looking for you ever since.”

“I am the son of Odin,” Loki growled, but he knew his words were empty. He was laid bare, his true nature revealed. If any Asgardian saw him now, they would run him through without hesitation.

The Jötun scoffed. “Look at yourself, brother. You are no son of Odin and you know it. He stole you away from your people. Fed you lies and hate. Convinced you to slay your own kin. And now that you are returned to your rightful home, I must bind your magick to keep you from fleeing in terror. Odin is not your father. He was your captor.”

“What do you want from me?” Loki spat.

Býleister looked sad. “I want you to take your rightful place,” he said softly. “Your place as first born son of Laufey King, and his heir.”


	29. Before I Beg You to Stay

“You are either mad, or delusional. Or both,” Loki said, shaking his head. 

Býleister shrugged. “Possibly. But these are desperate times, and our need is great.”

“I care nothing for your  _ needs _ ,” Loki sneered. “I will not assist you. Release me at once.”

“I cannot,” The Jötun said. “The situation is dire, and you are our only hope.”

Loki laughed bitterly. “Then you must  _ truly _ be desperate, to come to  _ me  _ for help.”

The other didn’t reply at first. “Jötunheimr is dying,” he said quietly. “It has been since we lost the Casket of Ancient Winters. The War Chiefs have become restless and now they are grumbling against Laufey. Laufey King needs to consolidate his power, but he has no heir.”

“You said you were his son,” Loki pointed out.

“He is my sire,” Býleister corrected. “Not my progenitor.”

“What is the difference?” Loki demanded impatiently.

Býleister sighed deeply. “What do you know about Jötnar biology?”

Loki stared at the monster for several seconds. “Only enough to kill one,” he said flatly.

Býleister sighed again. “The Aesir have two sexes: male and female. But the Jötnar have only one: male  _ and _ female. Each of us are able to sire  _ and  _ carry offspring. But for the heir of a king to be legitimate, the king must carry and bear the offspring himself. Only then will the heir bear the royal clan markings, as you do.”

It took Loki a moment to absorb that information. Both male  _ and _ female. That… explained  _ so _ much. Why he never felt comfortable in male form. Why he was just as happy as a woman as he was as a man. Why he was capable of carrying and birthing a child in the first place.

But it still begged a question. “Then why can’t Laufey simply have another child? Why do  _ I _ have to be snatched away like a war hostage in the night?”

“Do you not think Laufey has  _ tried _ ?” Býleister snapped, finally losing his patience. “Many times? You are the only one of his offspring that has survived to adulthood.”

“And I am a pathetic, misshapen dwarf,” Loki sneered. “No Jötun would accept me as their ruler.”

“They will be made to,” Býleister growled.

Movement at the mouth of the cave made Loki jerk around. A figure, wrapped head-to-toe in wool and fur, emerged from the driving snow, shaking the flakes off as they entered. They were small, compared to the Jotun, probably only around Loki’s height.

“Were we followed?” Býleister demanded.

“No,” came the muffled reply from the depths of the wrappings. The newcomer began to peel away the layers, revealing, to Loki’s, shock, a Jötun of his same small stature. The markings on the diminutive Jotun were familiar somehow, as if Loki had seen them before, and recently, but he couldn’t place it.

“Then we should proceed to the city as soon as possible,” Býleister said, rising to his feet. He stood over three meters tall, towering over both his companions. “There is no time to waste.”

“If the War Chiefs discover us before we reach the castle, they will kill the foundling,” the other Jötun warned.

“Then we cannot be discovered,” Býleister replied simply. He eyed Loki up and down. “Your clothing is… distinctive. But we have no alternatives. Come. Do not fear the snow. It will not harm you.”

The shorter Jötun grabbed Loki’s arm and hauled him to his feet. “Grindalokki,” they said. “I am Angrboða. I will be your warden. Do not attempt to escape. You know the consequences.”

Loki did. If he got too far from the owner of the thorn manacles, he would die. If he attempted to remove the manacles, he would die. And if he killed the owner of the manacles, he would also die. 

“Grindalokki,” Býleister called, looking down at him. “We do not mean to harm you. Please. Return us the same courtesy.”

Loki glared up at the creature who claimed to be his brother. “I am at your mercy,” he said bitterly.

xXx

Darcy was jerked awake by vigorous pounding on the front door. She cast around wildly, for a moment not remembering where she was. The blanket covering her slipped to the floor and she got to her feet as the raucous knocking continued. She wondered if she should answer it or not.

Abel stumbled down the stairs from the upper level, holding a candle in one hand and Irving in the other. He wore a calf-length night shirt and a pointed cap complete with a tassel on the end.

“What is that?” Darcy asked groggily, rubbing at her face. “Were you expecting someone?”

“N-n-no,” Abel stammered nervously. “It’s in the m-middle of the n-night. N-no one should be aw-w-wake.”

“Abel, you quivering lump of useless flesh, open the door!” came a muffled, irate voice from the other side of the door.”

“Oh,” Abel said, his countenance falling. “It’s my b-brother, C-c-c-cain.”

“Lovely,” Darcy said dryly. Abel shuffled over to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. It was pushed further inward sharply, almost hitting Abel in the face. The rotund gentleman skipped nimbly out of the way, allowing a tall, raw-boned man to enter the house.

Suspicious eyes darted around the entryway, catching sight of Darcy. “Who is that?” demanded Cain in a sneering voice. “What is she doing here? What does she want?”

“Th-this is Lady D-Darcy G-G-Gersemi,” Abel stuttered. “She’s Lord M-Morpheus’ d-d-daughter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cain snapped, shoving Abel aside and stalking over to Darcy. He stood about a head taller than her and knew how to loom very well. “Lord Morpheus doesn’t have a  _ daughter _ . He has a  _ son _ .”

Darcy drew herself up to her full height. “I  _ am _ Lord Morpheus’ daughter,” she declared. “And the daughter of Freyja, daughter of Nerþuz the Greenmother.”

“Aha!” Cain exclaimed, shoving his finger into her face. “Everyone knows Freyja’s daughter died along with her mother. You’re lying!”

“She’s n-n-not,” Abel said, grabbing at Cain’s arm. “C-cain, she really  _ is _ M-M-Morpheus’ d-daughter!”

“You imbecile! Of  _ course _ you believed her,” Cain said disdainfully. “You putty-brained moron!” He turned back to Darcy. “You don’t belong here! You’re no denizen of the Dreaming. You’re a trespasser!”

Darcy slapped Cain’s hand out of her face and summoned voidfire, raising her own hand threateningly. “Call me that again,” she said fiercely, “And I’ll burn your face off.”

Cain stepped back quickly, nearly tripping over Abel in the process. “I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said quickly, bowing low. “I seem to have been misinformed.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes and let the voidfire fade. “Morpheus sent out an announcement,” she said. “He held a feast in my honor.”

“News travels slowly to the Shifting Zones,” Cain said, bowing again. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Apology accepted,” Darcy said stiffly. She pulled her duster tighter around her. “I need to get to the palace as soon as possible. Can you take me there?”

“ **That won’t be necessary** ,” said a very familiar voice from the doorway. All three of them turned to see Dream standing on the threshold, wearing a long black trench coat and rather incongruous black galoshes.

“Dad!” Darcy exclaimed, and pushed past the brothers to embrace her father. He hugged her back gingerly, as if afraid to hurt her. 

“ **Matthew saw you with Abel** ,” Dream explained. “ **I came as soon as I could.** ”

“Loki’s gone,” Darcy blurted. “I looked everywhere for him. I tried scrying but I couldn’t find him. Daniel’s looking for him in the Dreaming but I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“ **I know** ,” Dream assured her. “ **Daniel told me everything. What do you need from me** ?”

“Can  _ you _ find him?” Darcy asked hopefully. “Do you know where he is?”

Dream hesitated visibly. “ **I may be able to find him** ,” he said slowly. “ **But you know the rules, Daughter. I cannot interfere with mortal matters** .”

“But he’s  _ family _ ,” Darcy protested. “I thought you could help  _ family _ .”

“ **Within very narrow restrictions** ,” Dream corrected gently. “ **I will help you find your husband, but I can do no more than that** .”

Darcy heaved a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll take what I can get.”

Dream nodded gravely. “ **You will be safe enough here. I will return as soon as I find him** .”

She hugged him again. “Thanks, Dad.”

xXx

They reached the castle in the center of the city without incident. Loki did not have much of a chance to examine the city itself, as Angrboða threw a cloak over his head as soon as they reached the outskirts, and did not remove it until they were inside the castle walls.

“This way,” Býleister instructed, gesturing for the others to follow. 

The castle was made of stone, light by crystal globes filled with what appeared to be bioluminescent fungi. The walls were carved with elaborate and beautiful murals documenting the history of the Jötnar. They passed no one in the corridors as they hurried along. 

They finally stopped at a door that Angrboða had to open using magick, and then they ushered Loki inside. The room beyond was… surprisingly not terrible. The bed in the corner was piled with furs. The middle of the room was occupied by a rectangular wooden table built more for Loki’s stature than Býleister. Low stools topped with cushions surrounded the table. Shelves with books lined one wall, and there were six crystal lanterns to illuminate the room.

“You will be safe here,” Býleister told Loki. “Angrboða will bring you something to eat. Laufey King is sitting in court right now, but he will speak with you as soon as he can.”

“I am at your leisure,” Loki said dryly. He raised his hands, still bound together by the manacles. “Though I would be more comfortable if I could use my hands more easily.”

Angrboða tapped the manacles, muttering under their breath. The manacles separated, leaving a cuff on each of Loki’s wrists, but at least he was more mobile.

“Do not leave this room,” Býleister warned. “I cannot vouch for your safety should you encounter the wrong person.”

“I have no desire to meet  _ anyone _ ,” Loki replied.

“Very good,” Býleister said, and they left him alone. 

Loki explored every inch of the room. There was nothing hidden in the shadowy corners, no danger lurking just out of sight. The books were all from other realms, printed on Nornheimr or Vanaheimr. There was even one ancient tome from Svartalfheimr.

Angrboða returned long enough to place a tray of food on the table before vanishing again. Loki examined the offering suspiciously. It was cured meat and dried mushrooms, raw blood sausage and oats soaked in cold water. Normally he would have turned his nose up at such a meal, but the scent of the meat and sausage awoke a voracious hunger and he devoured every bite. Then, his stomach heavy with food, he burrowed under the furs on the bed and fell fast asleep.

xXx

Loki was in a nightmare when they found him. He was tied to a stone table in a cave with what appeared to be human entrails while a massive serpent dripped venom from its bared fangs onto his face.

“Loki!” Darcy cried, and would have rushed to his side if Dream had not held her back.

“ **Wait,** ” he ordered, then turned and confronted the serpent. “ **Begone. You are no longer needed.** ”

The serpent hissed at Dream and coiled as if to attack. Dream reached into his cloak and pulled out a handful of glittering, gold sand. He flung it at the serpent’s yellow eyes. It hissed again, writing in pain, and retreated into the depths of the cave. Only then did Dream release Darcy.

She hurried over to Loki. He did not appear to be fully conscious. She used the sleeve of her duster to wipe venom from his face. “Loki,” she called. “It’s me. Can you hear me?”

His eyes blinked open, unfocused, and he stared at her for several seconds without recognizing her. The bright red burns on his face began to fade. “Dar...cy?” he slurred after a moment.

“Yeah, hey.” She smiled and blinked back tears. “I found you.”

He struggled against his bonds and Darcy pulled her dagger from her pocket, slashing through the bindings. He reached up and touched her face hesitantly. “Are you... _ here _ ?” he asked hesitantly. “Are you  _ really _ here?”

“I’m really here,” she assured him, and leaned down to kiss him. “I’m going to take you home.”

His eyes widened. “No!” he exclaimed. Then again, softer, “No, Darcy. I… I can’t.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? Why not?”

He looked down at his wrist, unmarked by his tight bindings. “They put me in thorn manacles,” he said softly. 

“What are those?” Darcy demanded. His head lolled away from her as if he had not heard her question. She twisted to look at her father. “What are those?”

Dream looked grave.” **Thorn manacles bind the captive to the captor. If the captive attempts to remove them, or strays too far from the captor, the captive will die.** ”

“Can we get them off?” Darcy asked. “Do you know how?”

Dream shook his head. “ **They can only be removed by the captor. Any other attempts will kill the captive** .”

“Shit,” Darcy muttered. “So what do we do  _ now _ ?”

Dream put his hand on her shoulder. “ **I am sorry, Darcy,** ” he said softly. “ **There is nothing you can do for him now.** ”

“No!” Darcy burst out, slamming her fist against the stone table, ignoring the pain. “I don’t accept that. I  _ won’t _ just leave him.”

“Please,” Loki whispered, turning to look at her again. “Please, dearest. I can’t… I couldn’t bear for you to see me like this.”

“Where are you?” Darcy asked. “I’ll come to you.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s too dangerous for you. I… I will find my own way home. I promise, my love. I will come home. But not yet.”

Tears welled in Darcy’s eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “What am I supposed to do? Just wait around for you to come home?”

“Care for Sleipnir,” Loki replied. “He will need you. Tell him… tell him I will come back for him. I will not be gone forever.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Darcy protested, swiping at her eyes with one hand. “ _ Please _ , Loki. Don’t make me do this.”

“I love you,” he told her softly. “I love you more than my own life. And I  _ will _ come home. But please. Go, now. Before I beg you to stay.”

Dream squeezed Darcy’s shoulder. “ **It is time,** ” he said, pulling her away. “ **We must go now.** ”

“I don’t want to,” Darcy sobbed, clinging to Loki’s tunic. “I don’t want to go. Loki!”

Loki met Dream’s eye and nodded, his expression hard as stone. The skellig vanished, and they were adrift in the Dreaming.

“No!” Darcy screamed. “Take me back! Dad! Take me  _ back _ !”

“ **There was nothing you could do for him** ,” Dream said again.

Darcy wrenched herself out of his grip. “But you could have!” she yelled at him, tears still blurring her vision. “You could have done  _ something _ instead of just standing there like you always do!”

“ **You know the rules I am bound by** ,” Dream replied, unmoved by her accusations.

“I don’t  _ care _ !” Darcy screamed. “I don’t give a shit about your rules! He’s my  _ husband _ !  _ Do _ something!”

Dream stared at her for a long time, the stars in his eyes smoldering an angry orange. “ **No** .”

“I hate you!” Darcy shrieked. She didn’t, really, but the words just seemed to tumble out of control. “I  _ hate _ you! I never want to see you again!”

“ **Very well,** ” Dream said.

Darcy found herself on the lawn of the Greencoven, alone and bereft. She sank to her knees on the peat moss, wrapping her arms around herself as she wept.


	30. Every Moment Spent Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya sweets! Sorry about the long delay. Remember my wife's car accident back in February? Well, we are STILL fighting the insurance company for a half-decent settlement, and it's recently taken up some time. Also a friend of mine got me into a new book series so of COURSE I had to devour that.
> 
> I did figure out a way to get around my writer's block, but I don't know how permanent that is going to be, so don't scream at me if I don't post again soon.
> 
> I have come up with a name for my publishing company (lol i have a publishing company) and the_dark_becomes_her is designing me a logo! I'm working on getting an official website and email address, too.
> 
> Another project I have going is that I wrote a children's book! And again, the lovely the_dark_becomes_her is illustrating it. That will also be available to purchase soon! If you have kids, support your local broke artists...
> 
> Okay, enough news. On to the story!

Rook landed on Darcy’s shoulder with a flutter of wings. Ash drifted from her feathers, falling onto Darcy’s duster jacket. It slid off the black fabric without sticking.

“Anything?” Darcy asked without much hope.

“He’s not here,” Rook replied, ruffling her feathers.

Darcy sighed heavily. “We’re running out of options.”

“You’re certain he’s on one of the Nine Realms?” Rook turned her head to look at Darcy with one beady eye.

“That’s what Daniel said. He wasn’t able to narrow it down any more.”

“And you haven’t found his new skellig again?”

“No,” Darcy snapped. “I’m still new at all of this, remember?”

“Perhaps you could ask your--”

“No!” Darcy interrupted sharply. “I’m  _ not _ asking him.”

It was Rooks turn to sigh. “Very well. We should get back. It’ll be dark here soon.”

Darcy tilted her head back to stare at the sky. It was dark blue, sucked dry of all color from the lack of moisture in the atmosphere. Heat simmered up from the black rock underfoot, warmed by magma deep underground.

Muspelheim was a hot, rocky hell, inhabited by demons of fire and magic. Despite her frustration, she was glad Loki wasn’t here. She knew how much he despised the heat.

“It would help if we knew  _ who _ had taken him,” Rook muttered to herself.

“I’ve  _ tried _ ,” Darcy said, aware they were about to repeat a conversation they’d already had four times before. “Something is blocking me when I scry for him.”

What Darcy didn’t say was that she strongly suspected it was Loki himself who was blocking her. She was going to find her husband, whether he wanted her to or not. She reached up to touch the gold ring hanging from a chain around her neck. She was going to wear it until she could put it on Loki’s finger herself, however long that took.

They took a Way back to Vanaheimr. Darcy was getting better at finding and using them, with Rook’s help. Rook had taken over Darcy’s lessons in the Greensong, with occasional input from Hnoss.

Rook stayed in feathered form for the walk back to the Coven. There were predators in the Greenwood, and Rook would be better able to sense them coming as a bird. But Darcy feared little these days. Not when she could summon voidfire with a thought.

In fact, the greatest threat to the Greenchildren came from outside the Greenwood, not from within.

An overwhelming number of Greenchildren, like Rook and Loki, were shapeshifters, and used animal shapes to move rapidly through the forest. For this reason, hunting was strictly forbidden. The punishment was instantaneous and merciless. But there were still poachers who came from far-off worlds to bag one of the legendary creatures of the Greenwood. 

Hnoss met them at the gate. “Sleipnir is missing,” she said.

“What?” Darcy demanded, shoving her hood back. “For how long?”

“Since morning communal,” Hnoss replied. “He never appeared for lessons after the meal.”

“Shit,” Darcy spat. “Has anyone looked for him?”

Hnoss gave her a withering look. “All day,” she said reproachfully. “But he is nowhere to be found.”

“A coven full of witches and they can’t find a single little boy,” Darcy muttered, exasperated.

Hnoss had a sour expression. “Because he knows how to avoid being detected.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” Darcy snapped, and then took a deep breath. “Sorry, Hnoss. That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” her sister agreed, and turned to stalk away.

Darcy sighed. Everyone had been on edge since Loki’s disappearance. The idea that a Greenchild could be snatched off the street so easily was disturbing to all in the coven.

“I think I know where he is,” Darcy told Rook.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Rook offered.

“No,” Darcy said wearily. “I promised Loki I would take care of him.”

“Call for me if you have need,” Rook instructed, and flew off into the Coven.

Darcy had avoided using the Dreaming since her outburst with her father, which had given her a chance to practice using the Ways. They Waystation had not been touched since Loki’s kidnapping. Frigga had given the safe house to Loki and Darcy as a wedding gift.

Sleipnir sat on the warm black sand just above the highwater mark, his knees drawn to his chest. Beside him lay the large purple shell he had found days before Loki’s capture. Darcy lowered herself awkwardly down next to him. Her stomach wasn’t obviously distended yet, but her flexibility had been severely compromised.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said softly. “You alright?”

“You didn’t find Mother, did you?” he asked dejectedly.

“No, we didn’t,” Darcy told him. “But we won’t stop looking, I promise.”

“It won’t matter. Not if he doesn’t want to be found,” Sleipnir said, rubbing at his moist eyes. “Not if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Darcy pulled Sleipnir against her side and held him tight. “That’s not true,” she said fiercely. “He would never just leave us. Not if he could help it.” She pressed a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “He promised me he would come home, Sleip. And Loki always keeps his promises.”

Sleipnir sighed but didn’t argue with her.

“Do you want to go back to the Coven?”

“No.”

“Okay. How about we go inside the Waystation and get something to eat?”

Sleipnir was easily bribed with food, so Darcy was able to entice him inside. There was a storm blowing in from the water, and Darcy wanted to be safe before it made landfall. Sure enough, the deluge started while Darcy threw together a cold lunch from the preservation cabinet. Sleipnir put down his cup of juice and turned to stare out the window.

“I like the rain,” he said quietly.

“Well, sounds like it’s a big storm rolling in,” Darcy told him. “We’ll be stuck here for a bit.”

Sleipnir didn’t seem bothered by the news. “Okay,” he said, again mimicking Darcy’s syntax.

After they ate, Darcy cleaned up and walked through the house to make sure everything was in place. “This was  _ her _ house now. The first house she’d ever owned. It still felt surreal. Eighteen months ago she was a perfectly normal college student working a slightly-less-than-normal internship. Now she owned a house on a different planet with her currently-missing alien husband whose alien hybrid child she was carrying. Oh, and she had superpowers.

Sometimes life came at you fast.

Exhausted by the morning’s exertions, Darcy decided to take a quick nap while SLeipnir amused himself with the educational toys Loki had made for him.

She dreamed of Loki.

xXx

Loki did not see Laufey that first day, nor the second. He did not leave his cell during that time. He measured its dimensions with strides and read every book on the shelves. Angrboða appeared three times a day to provide food and a large bucket of fresh snow, which the Jötnar ate in lieu of water.

He slept little during the long nights and dreamed fretfully; nothing substantial, just the vague sense of danger and unease. When he could not sleep, he wrote. 

The low table was piled with sheets of vellum covered in his spidery handwriting. He wasn’t certain yet  _ why _ he felt the need to write, but he saw no reason to curb the urge. He wrote of his history, of all the magickal discoveries he had made, of his time at the Coven and his duties as a prince of Asgard. He wrote everything that his mind landed on for long enough for him to scribble it down.

Finally, on the third day, a quiet knock sounded on the door. Loki froze, his stylus still in one hand. Angrboða didn’t knock. Býleister hadn’t come to see him. Loki did not know who was on the other side of his cell door.

The newcomer knocked again, but made no attempt to enter. Loki rose cautiously and padded silently over to the door. “Who is there?” he called.

“Laufey,” came the deep, gravelly reply. “May I enter?”

Loki blinked several times. The  _ king _ of the  _ Jötnar _ was asking permission to enter. Loki shook his head to re-order his thoughts and undid the latch.

Laufey was tall, even for a Jötun. He wore only a leather kilt and a fur-lined vest. An iron crown rested atop his jet-black hair. He had a hungry expression on his craggy face and his blood-red eyes devoured Loki. “Grindalokki,” he said softly. “I greet you.”

Loki frowned, unsure of what was expected of him. Did Laufey expect him to genuflect? To grovel? Loki was a prince, and very nearly Laufey’s equal. He would bow for no one. Instead, he stood to the side. “Please come in,” he said stiffly.

Laufey stepped into the room and looked around closely. “Are you comfortable?” he asked. “Have you been given all you require?”

“Everything except my freedom,” Loki replied sourly.

Laufey nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “I apologize for my tardiness. I intended to see you the night you arrived, but business has demanded my full attention.”

Loki chose to not reply, closing and latching the door instead. He turned and stood with his back to the door so he would have a means to escape should things take a turn for the worse. “What do you need, Laufey King?” he asked flatly.

“I came to see my son,” Laufey replied, turning to face Loki. “My firstborn and heir.”

“I am not your son,” Loki said firmly. “I have not been since I was left to die on a battlefield.”

Laufey scowled. “Did Odin tell you that? Is that where he told you he found you? Because that is a lie.”

“And you claim to tell me the truth?” Loki retorted. “What reason do I have to believe you?”

“What reason do I have to lie?” Laufey shot back. 

“Everyone lies,” Loki spat. “Everyone wants something of me and they will lie, cheat, and steal to get it.”

“You had just been born,” Laufey said, his voice a low growl. “You were small, and sickly. Farbouti did not believe you would live, but I would not give up hope. I took you to the Hall of Ymir, our most sacred temple, and I placed you on the altar. I begged Ymir to give you life, to give you strength. Then Odin attacked, soiling our holy places with blood. When the battle was over, you were gone. I always believed Odin had taken you, but I had no proof.”

Loki clenched his fists. He did not want to hear these things. He did not want to hear that he had been  _ wanted _ . That Laufey had  _ begged _ their gods for his life. He did not want to hear that this monster  _ fought _ to protect him, that perhaps this monster even  _ loved _ him.

He would not believe it. Not now, and not ever.

“I cannot give you what you want,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I will not be your heir. I would rather die.”

Laufey looked almost sad. “I’m afraid there are no other options ahead of us. Jötunheimr is dying. Without the Casket of Ancient Winters--”

“Your power is crumbling, I am aware,” Loki interrupted. “But I hardly think  _ I _ am a suitable candidate to assist you consolidate your power.”

Laufey narrowed his eyes. “Are you not my son? Were you not born from my own body?”

That was not what Loki wanted to discuss at the moment, so instead he gestured to himself. “My appearance would be greatly to my detriment.”

“All sorcerers are born small, as you were,” Laufey said uncaringly. “It is known and accepted.”

“It...is?” Loki asked in disbelief. “There are… others? Like me?”

Laufey frowned. “Have you not met Angrboða?” he asked. “It was my intent to make him your companion.”

“Companion?” Loki echoed sharply. “What do you mean,  _ companion _ ?”

“A child of your union would be powerful beyond compare,” Laufey replied. “Able to rebuild Jötunheimr from these ruins.”

“I  _ have _ a wife,” Loki spat. “ _ And _ a son, and a daughter who is not yet born. I  _ have _ a family, and you stole them away from me.”

Laufey blinked, his expression rigid. “I am sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. “But the needs of our people must come first.”

“They are  _ not  _ my people,” Loki hissed furiously.

“They will be,” Laufey replied. He strode toward the door, and Loki dodged out of the way, allowing the monarch to exit the cell. Loki remained where he stood for a long time, jaw and fists clenched.

He slept that night, and dreamed of Darcy.

xXx

Loki knew he was dreaming. He sat on the edge of the roof of Jane’s laboratory in New Mexico, facing the setting sun. The desert was in bloom, the dry brush and succulents lush with purple and blue flowers. A faint breeze whistled around the corners of the oddly-shaped building. Otherwise there was complete silence.

Darcy sat down next to him, her movements stiff and awkward. She leaned back, supported by one arm, and rested her other hand on her barely-swollen belly.

Loki glanced down at his hands, relieved to find that, in his dream at least, his glamor was in place. “Are you here?” he asked softly. “Is this  _ you _ ?”

“It’s me,” she replied, her voice equally hushed. “How are you?”

“Bored,” Loki replied before he could stop himself.

She gave him a sour look. “Well, you could always come home if you don’t have anything better to do.”

He sighed deeply. “I am sorry, my love. You know I can’t.”

“Not until you get the thorn manacles off,” she said with a nod. “How’s that going, by the way?”

Loki grimaced. “I fear I am not making headway in fooling them into trusting me,” he admitted.

“If you would just  _ tell _ me where you are…” Darcy began.

“No,” Loki cut her off. “It’s not safe for you. Or Helena.”

Darcy rubbed her stomach. “She’s supposed to start moving around soon,” she said. 

Loki hesitated, then reached over and placed his palm against her tunic over her stomach. The life within glowed strong and vibrant, pulsing in time to its heartbeat. “I will return to you,” he said softly, and he wasn’t certain if he spoke to his wife or his daughter.

“I know,” Darcy said, answering for both of them. “But I really, really miss you.”

“I miss you as well,” he told her. “Every moment we are apart is a torture.”

Darcy sighed heavily and didn’t reply. They sat in silence for a long time, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Darcy put her hand over Loki’s “Did you feel that?” she demanded breathlessly. Loki frowned. He had not. But then, a heartbeat later, he felt it, the tiniest movement against his palm.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, I do.”

“That’s her,” Darcy whispered. “That’s Helena.”

“My daughter,” Loki breathed. “ _ Our _ daughter.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, her voice thick with tears. “Our little girl.”

Loki lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I love you,” he told her. “And I  _ will _ return to you. You have my word.”

She gave him a hard look despite the tears slipping down her cheeks. “And I’m not going to stop looking for you, bonehead. No matter what you say. I’m going to find you.”

“Darcy,” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.

“No. I don’t  _ care _ what you say. I’m  _ not _ giving up. I’m  _ not _ going to stop.”

“Darcy,” he tried again.

She lunged forward, cutting off his words with a hard, fierce kiss, taking his face in both her hands. “You don’t get to tell me to stand by and do nothing,” she told him. “You don’t get to tell me how and when I can love you. You’re my  _ husband _ . I’m pretty sure I swore to love and protect you.”

“Pretty sure?” Loki echoed, amused.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said, sobering. “But Darcy, I mean it when I say it is not  _ safe _ . You are putting yourself in danger.”

“And that’s my choice,” Darcy replied. “And my choice alone. Got it?”

Loki sighed, knowing he was defeated. “Give me your word then, that you will not search for me alone. That you will have someone to protect you.”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? Of course I do. You think Rook is going to sit around and do nothing? She’s just as worried about you as I am.”

Loki swallowed. “I  _ am _ safe, beloved. For the moment, anyway.”

“Because  _ that’s _ reassuring,” Darcy said sarcastically. She leaned back. “Can I… Can you…” She cut herself off again and paused, trying to find the right words. “Will you let me see you?” she asked softly. She took his hand. “Here. In the Dreaming. Can I at least see you here?”

He knew he should say no, that dreaming of her at night would only make waking all the more difficult, but he couldn't bear to deny her this. “Of course, my love.”

“Good,” Darcy said, and kissed him again.


	31. The Crown Prince of Jötunheimr

Darcy had a key to Cece’s house, but she still knocked on the front door. Sleipnir tugged against her hand as he ducked behind her, shy for the first time in his life. Cece opened the door and broke into a wide smile. “Dee! Come here, baby girl! It’s been so  _ long _ .”

Darcy hugged Cece with her free arm. “Yeah, it has been a bit. Sorry. Things kinda got away from us.”

“Where’s Loki?” Cece asked. “Is he not coming?”

Sleipnir whimpered a bit from behind Darcy, and she sighed heavily. “That’s a really long story,” she said. “But no, he’s not.”

“Oh,” Cece said, uncertain, and caught sight of Sleipnir. “Oh! Hello, sweetie. Wow. You really  _ do _ look just like your dad.” Cece hadn’t had the chance to meet Sleipnir during the wedding, as Loki had insisted the boy stay as far from Lorelei and Baldr as possible.

Sleipnir poked his head out from behind Darcy. “Loki isn’t my father,” he said in his high, clear voice. “Loki is my  _ mother _ .”

Cece blinked and turned to stare at Darcy in confusion. “Another long story,” Darcy said. “Would you mind making some coffee? It’s been, like, six months since I’ve had any.”

Cece stepped away from the door to allow them to enter. “Can you have coffee? I mean… with you being pregnant and all?”

“Yeah, caffeine isn’t going to hurt the sprog,” Darcy replied, pausing in the hallway. “Look, Sleip. This is me when I was your age.”

Sleipnir stood on his tip-toes to get a better look at the photo. “You were very short,” he observed.

“Still am, thank you,” Darcy muttered. “You hungry, bud?”

“Yes, Mama,” Sleipnir replied. “I’m  _ always _ hungry.”

“Yes, you are,” Darcy agreed.

“I can order a couple of pizzas,” Cece offered.

“Make it about five,” Darcy replied, heading toward the kitchen. “And vegetarian ones, please. Sleipnir doesn’t eat meat, and I haven’t either in a really long time.”

“Not a problem,” Cece said, pulling out her cell phone. “Jesse decided he doesn’t want to eat meat so we’ve been vegetarian for over a month now.”

“How is Jesse?” Darcy asked. “ _ Where _ is Jesse?”

“He’s in the middle of a skype session with his social worker. She just had a baby, but she’s still doing Jesse’s meetings to maintain his routine.” Cece hesitated. “And he’s been doing really well.  _ Really _ well. Ever since the wedding, it’s like he’s a whole different person. Did you ever find out what was said to him?”

Darcy pulled a bag of coffee grounds from the cabinet and opened it. Sleipnir, who had refused a seat at the breakfast nook, pulled the bag toward him so he could sniff it. “It was apparently a very small healing spell,” Darcy told her foster mother. “It’s generally used to keep patients calm during long procedures.”

Cece went very still. “Magic?” she asked in a tight voice. “They used  _ magic _ on him?”

“Like I said, it was just a small spell.”

“Darcy. They used  _ magic _ to alter his  _ mind _ .”

“Hardly. It just helps the patient to handle negative stimuli. It doesn’t alter the brain functions at all.”

“ _ Darcy. _ ”

Darcy froze. She hadn’t heard Cece use that tone in a long time. She turned to look at her mother. “Yes?” she asked, uncertain and a little frightened.

“Listen to yourself, Darcy,” Cece said. “You’re talking about  _ magic _ like it’s… like it’s  _ normal _ .”

“Well, for some people it  _ is _ ,” Darcy said, and pointed to Sleipnir, who was now clinging to the back of her duster jacket with both fists. “Sleipnir has been using magic since before he could talk.”

“But not Jesse,” Cece insisted. “He’s  _ human _ . We aren’t supposed to do magic. We aren’t supposed to have magic done to us. It’s not  _ natural _ .”

Darcy very carefully set down the spoon she was holding. “We,” she echoed. “As in you and Jesse. And not me.”

“No, Didi, I didn’t mean it like that,” Cece said quickly, crossing the kitchen toward them. “I just meant--”

“I  _ know _ what you meant, Mom,” Darcy snapped. “But that’s not what you  _ said _ . I’m  _ still _ part of this family. Or at least I  _ thought _ I was.”

Cece put her hands on Darcy’s shoulders. “You will  _ always _ be part of this family,” she said softly. “You will always be my baby girl.”

Darcy sniffed and nodded, rubbing at her damp eyes. “Sorry, Mom,” she muttered. “Pregnancy hormones, and everything with Loki…”

“What happened?” Cece asked gently. “Can you tell me?”

Darcy cleared her throat. “Loki was kidnapped.”

Cece stared at her. “What?”

“He was kidnapped,” Darcy repeated. “And I don’t know where he is, or who took him. All I know is that he doesn’t want me to look for him and that he’s trying to escape on his own.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to put you in danger,” Cece said, still in shock. “Darcy, I’m so sorry. Are you  _ okay _ ?”

Darcy shook her head. “Not really, no. We’re not okay.” She hugged Sleipnir to her side. “That’s why I wanted to come here.”

Cece took Darcy’s face in her hands. “You are  _ always _ welcome here.”

xXx

Darcy leaned back in the plastic chair, trying to find a position that relieved the ache in her back. The chair was cheap and mass-produced, so the effort was futile. The skype connecting screen beeped softly to itself through the headphones plugged into the laptop. She was in a trendy cafe in Santa Monica, using a portable wifi hotspot and a VPN that made it look like she was in Shanghai.

The skype call finally connected, and Clint appeared on the screen. His dark sandy hair was disheveled and he had bags under his eyes. “Darce?” he asked in confusion, and rubbed his face. “That you?”

“Yup,” Darcy replied, rubbing her stomach. “I was back in the area, so I thought I’d check in.”

Clint glanced off screen for a minute. “And when you say ‘in the area’ you mean…?”

“On the planet,” Darcy finished for him. “I’ve been on Vanaheimr most of the last six months.”

“Vanaheimr,” Clint echoed. “Right. How was it?”

“Loki and I got married,” Darcy said with cheer she did not feel.

Clint blinked a few times. “You guys got…  _ married _ ?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you knew we were together. I tried to keep it a secret, but Loki was not subtle  _ at all _ .”

“I knew you were  _ together _ ,” Clint said. “I figured he was the father of your kid, considering how he hovered. I didn’t know you guys were getting  _ married _ .”

Darcy giggled. “Yeah, neither did I. Apparently we got engaged  _ months _ ago and I didn’t even know about it.”

Clint rubbed his face again. “It is too damn early in the morning for riddles, Darce.”

“Sorry. Um, so on Asgard the way people get engaged is by sharing a cup of alcohol. Which Loki and I did, like, back in Colorado. He thought I knew what it meant so he never bothered explaining what happened, and I didn’t realize the significance so I never asked.”

Clint blinked a few times. “And you got married?”

“Only after he explained everything and proposed to me properly,” Darcy said quickly. 

“Oh.” Clint sniffed and looked off screen again. “Hey, Cheese. It’s Darcy. “

“Darcy?” came Coulson’s voice. “Where is she?”

“Shanghai, apparently,” Clint replied dryly.

Coulson appeared behind Clint. “Hello, Ms. Gersemi,” he said politely. “You look well. How are you feeling?”

“My back hurts like a mother and my ankles are the size of piglets,” Darcy quipped.

“That’s right. You should be due in a few months, right?” Clint asked, perking up.

“If I were human, yeah,” Darcy rubbed her stomach again. She wished Helena would move more, but movement was rare and subtle. “I’m not, so pregnancy lasts almost two years.”

“Two  _ years _ ?” Coulson repeated in surprise. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Darcy grimaced. “Me, too. I’m not very big, yet, but I already feel like a whale.”

“So this means we have time to do a baby shower,” Clint said hopefully.

“Maybe,” Darcy said. “Asgardians don’t celebrate a new baby until the baby is born. They think it’s bad luck to do it early.”

“Oh,” Clint said, disappointed. “Well, Loki doesn’t have to come.”

“How is Loki?” Coulson asked. “Is he there with you?”

Darcy scraped her teeth over her lower lip. “No. He’s busy. But he’s fine. He’s… fine. Just busy.”

Coulson narrowed his eyes. “Is everything okay, Ms. Gersemi?”

“I think you can call me Darcy by now, Coulson,” Darcy said, grasping at the change in subject. “We’ve been through enough shit together.”

“Fine,  _ Darcy _ . Is everything okay?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “It’s nothing you can help with,” she said softly. “I can’t really tell you more than that.”

“But if and when we  _ can _ help, you’ll tell us, right?” Clint pushed.

“You’ll be the first to know,” Darcy promised.

A phone beeped and Coulson glanced down. “That’s Natasha. We’re ready to go. Sorry, Darcy. We’ve got to run. Will you check in with us again?”

“If I can,” Darcy said. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be planetside.”

“Let us know when you leave,” Clint instructed. “So we don’t worry when we don’t hear from you again.”

“I will,” Darcy said, and waved. “Be safe, guys.”

“You, too,” Clint said, and ended the call. 

xXx

Loki eyed the clothing Angrboða had brought him. It consisted of a leather kilt, a fur-lined vest, and light-weight boots made from oiled leather. And literally nothing else.

“Is there a problem?” Angrboða asked.

Loki peered closer at the articles. They were exceptionally well made, decorated with multicolored polished stone beads. The fur was a beautiful silver, tipped with black, and was as soft as silk. He ran his hand over the interior of the vest.

“They were made specifically for you,” Angrboða went on. “Garments fit for the son of the king.”

“They are acceptable,” Loki said shortly. “It is the occasion I object to.”

“Laufey King must claim you before the War Chiefs,” Angrboða explained, picking at the wool wrappings they never seemed to take off. “Or they will never accept you as his heir.”

Loki bit back a sharp retort. There was no point in protesting anymore. And besides, the more he protested, the less likely they were to take off the accursed manacles. “Very well,” he said shortly.

“Do you need assistance?” Angrboða asked.

Loki snorted. “No. I am more than capable of dressing myself, thank you.”

“Very well. If I can be of any other assistance, please call for me,” Angrboða offered.

He nodded sharply and gestured his dismissal. Angrboða passed Býleister on their way out the door. “Brother,” Býleister greeted. “Are you prepared for the ceremony?”

“If I knew what the ceremony entailed, I would be more ready,” Loki snapped. “But no one has told me anything of what I can expect.”

“It is not a complex ceremony,” Býleister said. He leaned against the wall, slouching in a futile effort to not tower over Loki. “Laufey will declare you his son and heir, and the War Chiefs will want to examine you for proof.

“Examine me?” Loki repeated sharply.

“To ensure that your markings are those of the royal line,” Býleister explained.

Loki looked down at his bare arms, at the concentric chevrons of ridges that puckered his skin. The pattern continued over his entire body. Even the backs of his hands were marked. “How…  _ closely…  _ do they intend to examine me?” he asked warily.

Býleister laughed. “Not  _ that _ closely, brother. Your virtue will be safe.”

Loki scowled and snatched the vest from the table where it lay. He shrugged it on and quickly did up the laces. There was no heat in the palace, which didn’t bother the occupants. The thick walls blocked out the frigid wind, which was shelter enough. Loki also didn’t feel troubled by the cold, but the fur on his bare skin felt shamefully luxurious.

He turned his back to the Jötun and stripped off his trousers. He wore light-weight linen shorts underneath, and declined to remove them in order to lace up the kilt. The belt, he discovered upon closer examination, was decorated in discs of hammered copper the same color as the leather. Metal was rare on Jötunheimr, he knew. The belt in his hand represented a small fortune.

The boots also had small beads, most of them stone, bone, and antler, but here and there he found a gold or silver nugget stitched onto the leather. Angrboða had been correct: these were the garments of a prince.

Loki laced up the boots and turned to face Býleister. “I am ready,” he said sourly.

Býleister nodded. “You look like the son of a king.”

He looked like a barbarian, Loki thought silently. But he followed Býleister through the halls of the palace for the first time since he had arrived. Passing Jötnar glanced curiously at Loki as they passed, but no one confronted them or questioned his presence. Loki did his best not to flinch every time one came too close for comfort.

Laufey waited in the throne room alone. The throne room was not nearly as vast as Asgard’s, but it was still a respectable size, the stone ceiling held up by massive, intricately-carved pillars set in a checkerboard throughout the hall. The throne was carved from a single block of cloudy, blue-white crystal, shot through with veins of copper and mica.

Loki’s progenitor stood in front of the throne, staring down at a table made of the dense wood from the wind-swept trees that clung to the side of the mountains. In the center of the table rested the largest cartograph Loki had ever seen. The interactive map currently displayed the capital city of Jötunheimr, the palace rising high over the small, squalid structures of the city.

Loki had seen cartography before, in the library of Asgard. They were rare and considered antiques. He had never heard of one in regular use. Fascinated by the artifact, Loki crept silently toward the table, trying not to disturb the king.

His fingers itched to touch the cartograph, to manipulate it and explore the rest of the realm’s topography. It appeared in perfect working order. The master of antiquities at the Royal Library of Asgard would most likely gladly murder to get his hands on it.

“We were once as grand and rich as Asgard,” Laufey rumbled, startling Loki. He looked up at the king. Laufey gestured toward the three-dimensional image on the cartograph. “Now my subjects live in poverty and it is all I can do to stave off hunger for our children. Our realm is dying and Asgard forbids us from leaving, to seek resources elsewhere. They wish us to starve slowly, so the blood of genocide is not on their hands.”

Loki swallowed tightly. “The Allfather would not condone the destruction of an entire race,” he said, hating the fact he could not make himself sound confident.

Býleister scoffed behind him. “The same Allfather who tried to wipe us out with fire and sword? The same Allfather who slaughtered our women and children in the caves where they sought refuge?”

“Enough,” Laufey growled. “Grindalokki is not responsible for the crimes of the one who stole him from us. He is among his true people again. This is cause for celebration, not censure.”

“Of course,” Býleister said with a deep bow. “Shall I send in the War Chiefs, Father?”

“Yes, thank you, my son,” Laufey waid with a wave. “Then fetch your brother and your progenitor and return.”

Býleister bowed again and left the throne hall. Laufey turned his blood-red eyes to Loki. “It has been many generations since a sorcerer was born into my line. The War Chiefs may wish to test your strength. They may call for the Trials.”

“Trials?” Loki echoed. 

“The Trials are three tasks set by long tradition for the crown prince to prove that he is worthy of the throne.” Laufey clasped his hands behind his back. “They are dangerous, but a sorcerer should have no great difficulty with them. You will be allowed a companion to advise you. I would suggest Angrboða. He has studied the deep magicks from the dawn of our civilization.”

“I will consider it, should it be necessary,” Loki replied stiffly.

Laufey nodded and fell silently, staring at Loki with a distant expression. “I would not have you fear me, my son,” he said softly.

Loki blinked. “I… I do not fear you,” he said, and found that, to his surprise, he truly did not.

“You will make Jötunheimr prosper once more, I know it,” Laufey said quietly. “You and your brothers.”

Before Loki could reply, or protest, doors to the hall swung open, and the War Chiefs arrived.


	32. A Throne For a Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sweets! Guess what??? I have my very own website up and running!!! What??? It's almost like I'm official and shit. Lol. Anyway, check me out at sineadsmith3.com. There's not much there now but I'm working on it. I also have my own email, so you can hit me up at sinead@sineadsmith3.com.
> 
> Nyxphos is working hard on a cover for This Is Gospel, and the_dark_becomes_her is almost done with the illustrations of my children's book: Haizea Wolf. I'll let y'all know when they are available for order, if you're interested. I still need artists for the covers of The Green Gentleman and The Impossible Year, if anyone is interested.
> 
> Enjoy!

Darcy wasn’t sure where she was. The stone terrace where she stood overlooked a bustling city, towers of gold and crystal glittering in the winter sunlight. The air was icy, biting at her cheeks. She pulled her duster tighter around herself.

“Where is this?” she wondered aloud.

“Asgard,” Loki replied from behind her. He stepped up to the railing next to her and pointed to the street below. “The day of Thor’s majority. You can see the parade from here.”

Darcy looked and saw the long, winding procession moving through the streets. Colorful flags and banners fluttered in the frigid breeze. She could faintly hear music and cheers. At the head of the parade, a man in a flowing red cape rode a white horse, his winged helmet gleaming brightly.

“Seems a lot of fuss for a birthday,” Darcy said with a sniff.

“It isn’t just a birthday,” Loki told her. “He becomes a man today. He is to be named the crown prince.”

“How lovely for him,” Darcy said sarcastically. She didn’t have a high opinion of Thor despite having never met him. Baldr had left such a bad taste in her mouth that her impression of Thor was equally poor. “Why are you up here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be in the parade?”

“Thor and I argued this day,” Loki replied softly, leaning his elbows against the rail. “I called him a fool and a buffoon and he called me ‘serpent’s-tongue.’ So I hid up here during the procession and only came down for the ceremony. And during the feast I soured the ale after it had been served.”

Darcy laughed. “That must have been funny.”

Loki smiled faintly. “It really was.”

She peered up at him, studying his face. There was a faint bluish tinge to his skin. She wondered if it was cold wherever he was. He seemed otherwise healthy and well-fed.

“How are you doing?” she asked. “Still hanging in there?”

Loki shrugged. “One day is much the same as the next.”

Darcy refrained from asking him the thousand questions she wanted to. She knew he wouldn’t answer them. He never did, no matter how many times they met like this in his dreams.

Loki turned toward her suddenly and offered her his hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Darcy took his hand without hesitation. “Lead the way.”

They moved through the palace like ghosts, slipping silently among the carousers without attracting notice. The deeper into the palace they went, the more the people seemed like ghosts themselves, becoming transparent and shadowy. They finally reached a set of massive, golden doors with intricate metalwork decoration and a heavy locking mechanism.

“What’s this?” Darcy asked, intrigued.

“The throne room,” Loki replied with a wicked gleam in his eye. The doors opened of their own accord, revealing a massive hall, at the end of which a gold throne stood in the middle of a raised dais. The hall was lit only by beams of sunlight shining in through high windows, dust motes dancing in the light.

Loki led Darcy straight down the hall to the throne and paused, his expression unreadable as he stared at the gilded chair.

“Loki?” Darcy asked after a moment.

“He lied to me,” Loki said abruptly.

“Who did?”

“Odin. The man I called ‘Father’ as a boy. He told me his sons were equal, that all of them were born to be kings. He called me his blood and his bone. But he lied. I never belonged to him.”

“Loki,” Darcy said again, touching his arm. “I’m not an expert, but these feelings are normal for people who find out they’re adopted.”

Loki shook his head. “You don’t understand. My whole life I was told stories about the war, about how the Jötnar were monsters who ate the flesh of the dead. We were taught to hate and fear them. They were the stories we told children to frighten them at night, to keep them in their beds until morning.”

He glanced down at his free hand and for half a second the skin turned sapphire-blue and ridged, the nails black and pointed like claws.

“Now, whenever I see myself,” he continued softly, but trailed off.

“You see the monster you grew up fearing,” Darcy finished for him. “Oh, Loki. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he spat. He tempered his expression. “I don’t need anyone’s pity,” he said calmly.

“What  _ do _ you need?” Darcy asked.

Loki looked down at her again, his expression positively predatory. He released her hand and caught her around the waist, lifting her up and depositing her gently on the throne. It dwarfed her, her feet dangling above the floor. She perched uncomfortable at the edge of the seat, her hands resting on the arms.

“What am I supposed to do now?” she demanded.

Loki knelt in front of her. He pushed her thighs apart so he could lean forward and kiss her with teeth and tongue. “You are the only one I will ever kneel for,” he told her when they could speak again. “My heart. My queen.”

“You’re so corny,” Darcy said with a giggle. “You’re mad at your dad so we’re going to make out on his throne?”

He grinned wickedly at her. “No. I have other plans.”

And he  _ did _ . He made love to her on the throne of Asgard. When it became too uncomfortable to sit on the hard, cold metal, Loki switched their positions so she sat atop his lap, her nightgown hitched up around her hips. Loki’s grip on her thighs was bruising and there would be marks on her skin in the morning.

Loki pressed his face against the side of her neck, his breath harsh as she pressed down against him, her rhythm slow and tantalizing. She had not seen her husband in the Waking for over a month, and she didn’t know when they would be reunited. She was going to make this last.

He scraped his teeth along her throat, just hard enough to leave red welts. Darcy yanked his hair in retaliation and he growled at her, his hands moving from her thighs to her ass.

Loki finished; she didn’t, but it wasn’t important. She nuzzled his hair while he recovered, breathing in the smell of fresh snow, oil, and leather. He clung to her like a drowning man, desperation in every line of his body. Darcy carded her fingers through his hair.

“Let me find you,” she begged. “Let me bring you home.”

“Not yet,” Loki replied in a whisper. “It’s not safe.”

“You keep  _ saying _ that,” Darcy protested. “ _ Why _ isn’t it safe?”

“I am surrounded by enemies on all sides,” Loki said. “There is no one I can trust.”

“Trust me,” Darcy urged. “Trust me to keep myself safe when I rescue you.”

“There is no point,” Loki told her, tilting his head back to meet her gaze. “Until the thorn manacles are removed, I cannot leave.”

Darcy grimaced. She had not yet found a way around the manacles, and if her father, the Lord of Dreams and Stories, could not find a way to circumvent them, then there was little hope that  _ she _ could.

“I may not be able to meet you for some time,” Loki went on.

“Why not?” Darcy demanded sharply.

Loki shook his head. “My captors wish me to complete a series of trials to prove my worth. I do not yet know what they entail.”

“Why do you need to prove yourself to  _ them _ ?” Darcy demanded, twisting his shirt in her fist. “Why would they care?”

Loki sighed heavily and rested his forehead against her shoulder. “I cannot answer all of your questions,” he told her. “Not without putting you at risk.”

“Okay, fine,” Darcy muttered unhappily. She pressed a kiss to the side of his throat. “Can you stay with me longer tonight?”

He raised his head and kissed her deeply. “As long as you wish.”

xXx

“The caves extend for hundreds of kilometers,” Angrboða said. “Many who ventured in have never found their way out.”

“That is very encouraging, thank you,” Loki said dryly. He checked the straps on his pack and then the laces on his boots.

“The restrictions on the manacles have been lifted until sunrise tomorrow,” Angrboða went on, ignoring his sarcasm as usual.

Loki glanced up at the sky. The sun had not yet risen and the sky was a flat, uniform gray. “What happens at sunrise?”

Angrboða gave him an even stare from their blood-red eyes. “The restrictions on the manacles return.”

Loki could quite easily imagine the consequences if he was not close enough to Angrboða come sunrise. “How am I supposed to keep track of time when I am in the caves?” he asked sourly.

The other Jötun handed him a leather bracelet. A cloudy, oval stone was stitched to the leather. It glowed with a soft, blue light. “The light will fade as sunrise approaches,” Angrboða told him.

Loki took the bracelet and strapped it to his left wrist behind the manacles. “Any other words of wisdom for me?” he asked.

“There is only one way in or out of the caves,” Angrboða warned him. “Remember your path in, and you will find your way out.”

That was not…  _ entirely _ useless. “Thank you,” Loki said, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt.

Angrboða offered him a sheathed dagger. “I understand you cannot make your own weapons of ice,” they said. “You will need this to both protect yourself and to slay the  _ val-dýr _ .”

Loki carefully took the dagger, declining to mention that he had multiple weapons stashed in the ether. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Angrboða reached out toward him, hesitated, and then touched his shoulder lightly. “I have done all I can to ensure your success,” they said. “The rest is up to you.”

Loki nodded, his mouth twisting into a bitter grimace. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. He turned and entered the cave, descending into the darkness. He had been able, from a young age, to see perfectly in complete darkness, a skill he had long attributed to his magick. No he knew it was due to his true nature.

The bracelet on his wrist seemed overly bright in the pitch black, and Loki paused to wrap a strip of fabric around it so as not to attract unwanted attention. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and drew on his magick. 

It was intoxicating after so long cut off from his power. It fed every cell with heady energy, and for a moment it felt almost as if he were levitating above the cave floor. Then he forced himself back in control of his body and pushed the feelings of intoxication aside. He needed to be clear headed for the task ahead.

xXx

“Why did we have to meet here again?” Darcy had to practically yell to be heard over the music. Combined with the smell of booze and perfume and the flashing, colored lights, the place was giving her a headache. “This is a  _ nightclub _ . And I’m  _ pregnant. _ ”

“You aren’t the only one here, either,” Daniel replied, leaning his elbows against the small, round table. It was large enough for a couple of drinks but nothing else.

“Why are  _ we _ here?” Darcy demanded, gesturing between the two of them. “This isn’t really our scene.”

“Dad can’t see us here,” Daniel explained. He looked up when a waitress paused by their table and placed a drink in front of Daniel.

“Compliments of the bartender,” she said with a smile, and nodded toward the sharply-dressed young man behind the bar. Daniel turned to give the man an assessing look, then saluted the man with the drink.

“I didn’t think you were in on the dating scene,” Darcy said morosely, crossing her arms.

“I’m not. But I’m not opposed to the occasional liaison,” Daniel replied, sipping the drink.

Darcy grimaced. “‘Liaison’. You sound like Dad. Speaking of which, why is it so important he not see us here? Also  _ why _ can’t he see us here?”

“This whole building is shielded from unwanted eyes,” Daniel explained shortly. “It would take a great deal of power and energy to see through them; power and energy Dad doesn’t want to expel right now.”

“Why not?” Darcy demanded, straightening with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Daniel shook his head. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Dad told me not to say anything.”

“About  _ what _ , Daniel?” Darcy growled at her older brother. They were only two years apart in age, but Daniel had a great deal more experience with their father’s world.

“Something’s been assaulting the Dreaming,” Daniel admitted unhappily. “Dad’s found two skelligs destroyed so far, all the denizens slaughtered.”

“What?” Darcy asked flatly. “When? How?”

Daniel shook his head again. “This is why Dad didn’t want you to know. He figured you’d want to charge in to help and he doesn’t want to put you at risk right now.”

Darcy pressed her hand to her stomach. Helena had started picking up on her emotions; she got agitated and jumpy whenever Darcy was angry or worried. “Awfully nice of someone who  _ still _ refuses to speak with me.”

“You hurt him, Darcy,” Daniel told her. “Deeply. And he’s slow to forgive. We both know that. But he’ll come around. He loves you too much to be angry at you forever.”

Darcy tapped a fingernail against the varnished surface of the table. “Fine,” she said unhappily. “But you’d better keep me updated on whatever this thing is that’s attacking the Dreaming.”

“Fine, I will, but if Dad finds out you know, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Agreed. Now what is it you dragged me to this god-forsaken place for?”

Daniel choked on his drink and spluttered. “That’s more true than you know,” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, “I found Loki.”

Darcy froze. “You…  _ found _ … Loki,” she repeated slowly. “Where?”

Daniel looked nervous. “It’s not good, Dee.”

She took a deep breath. “I can take it. Where is he?”

“Jötunheimr.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Darcy leaned her face against her hands. “Fuck,” she said again. 

Daniel reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “Hey. He’s alive, and he’s been cared for, so we know there’s hope. We’ll get him home.”

“I know, but in what condition?” Darcy asked, looking up at her brother. “Do you have any idea how bad Odin fucked him up over being a Jötun?”

“No…?” Daniel said slowly.

“Pretty fucking bad,” Darcy told him. “This will not do him any favors.”

“I’m sorry, Dee,” Daniel said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“How do we get him back?” Darcy demanded.

“Well, until the thorn manacles are removed, it’s not going to be easy,” Daniel admitted. “If we take him too far away from the warden or if we kill the warden, he’ll die.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “What if we convince the warden to release him?” she asked.

“If you’re thinking of using the Corinthian again, I’d advise against it,” Daniel told her. “He’s not a toy.”

“Hmm,” was all that Darcy said.

“We’ll come up with a plan,” Daniel promised her. He drained the rest of his drink and got to his feet. “You want a ride home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Darcy replied with a wave. “I need the practice anyway.”

“Be safe,” Daniel told her. He bent to kiss her cheek. “Call me.”

“I will,” she promised. When she was alone she groaned and dropped her face onto her folded arms.

“Oh dear,” said a crisp British accent a moment later. Darcy jerked her head up and, startled to see a very tall man hovering over her, jerked backwards, almost falling off her stool. He caught her gently and helped her to her feet. 

“So sorry to scare you,” he apologized, flashing her a dazzling grin. He had dark hair and darker eyes, dressed impeccably in a black suit. “Are you well? Shall I call you a cab?”

“I’m not drunk,” Darcy replied, carefully extricating her hand. “But thank you. I can get home on my own.”

“Are you sure?” the man asked, his smile fading as he focused on something in the general area of Darcy’s cleavage. She looked down with a frown and saw her mother’s necklace gently glowing in the dim light. She slapped her hand over it and quickly tucked it under her shirt.

“How did you know her?” the man asked softly, his entire demeanor changed. He was still in a way that a human should not be, the way that Loki sometimes was, a stillness that was neither passive nor predatory, but still very, very frightening.

“Know who?” Darcy asked defensively, pulling her duster tighter around her. 

“Freyja Njörddóttir. That  _ is _ her necklace, is it not? Brisingamen, I think she called it.”

Darcy took a full step back from the stranger. “How do  _ you _ know her?” she demanded.

“Of her, more like,” he said, tilting his head. “She made quite a name for herself.” His eyes narrowed. “You look a great deal like her. You must be her daughter. Hnoss, is it?”

“I’m not Hnoss,” Darcy replied. “My name’s Darcy. I’m Freyja’s younger daughter.”

The man blinked twice. “I did not realize she had another child. My apologies, Miss Darcy.”

“Accepted. Who are you?”

His brilliant smile returned. “Ah, how rude of me. I am Lucifer Morningstar, at your service.” He bowed and Darcy got the feeling he was only slightly mocking her.

“Lucifer,” she echoed flatly. “ _ The _ Lucifer. Fallen angel king of Hell Lucifer.”

“Not the King of Hell at the moment,” he replied, straightening. “I abdicated.”

“You tried to have my father killed,” Darcy told him. 

He blinked again. “Did I? That doesn’t sound like me. I have rules about harming mortals.”

“He’s not mortal,” Darcy said. “He’s the Lord of Dreams.”

His dark eyes went wide and round, mouth hanging open. “You’re a child of Morpheus?” he said in disbelief. 

Darcy crossed her arms, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “Yup. His one and only daughter.”

“Well.” He seemed at loss for words. “I see. In my defense, I didn’t want to  _ kill _ your father. I wanted him  _ contained _ .”

“Same difference,” Darcy growled. “It nearly killed him when that occultist held him prisoner for most of the 1900s and then you follow it up with trying to enslave him in hell.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “If it makes anything better, I no longer want  _ anyone _ enslaved in Hell. I’ve washed my hands of the whole thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Darcy told him. “But I’ll let him know you’ve had a change of heart.”

“Is he here?” Lucifer Morningstar demanded, glancing around the club. “I would have noticed him come in, I’m sure.”

“He’s not. But he can be.”

“No, no, there’s no need for that,” Lucifer said hastily. “May I ask why  _ you’re _ here?”

“Meeting a friend,” Darcy said shortly. “Away from nosy people.”

“This is a good place for that,” Lucifer admitted. “My offer still stands. “Can I take you home?”

“I’ll be fine,” Darcy insisted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she pushed through into the Dreaming, intending to take a shortcut back to Cece’s house, maybe through Jesse’s dream. But instead she stepped into pitch black, an earth-shattering roar, and the slash of claws.

She stumbled back into the Waking, collapsing on the hard floor at Lucifer’s feet. 

“What in the name of--” he gasped, and dropped to one knee in front of her. “What the devil happened?”

“There was something… in the Dreaming,” Darcy gasped. Her face felt wet. She reached up to wipe the moisture away. Her hand came back bloody. “It attacked me.”

“We need to get you to hospital,” Lucifer said firmly. He looked up over her head. “Maze! Mazikeen!”

Darcy reached over and grabbed the front of his jacket. “No,” she said firmly. “No hospitals.”

“Fine,” Lucifer spat. “But you’ll still need attention. Where the bloody hell is Maze?”

“What is it?” 

Darcy looked up to see a dark-skinned woman in a leather bustier standing over them. She glared down at Darcy. “Why is this chick bleeding on my floor?”

“Call Doctor Tremblay and have him come to the penthouse,” Lucifer ordered. “And get some damn towels!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you familiar with The Sandman universe, the Lucifer Morningstar and Mazikeen characters I am using are based on the Netflix adaption, not the comics! I have not read the Lucifer-specific comics and I'm not interested in doing so, but I really like the TV series, so there you go.


	33. A Slaying And Two Murders, In No Particular Order

The shock wore off quickly, leaving Darcy in excruciating pain. She had two deep lacerations: one from her left temple down to her jaw and one across the front of her left shoulder. Lucifer and Mazikeen pressed clean, white towels to the wounds, staining them brilliant red.

“Your doctor friend is on the way,” Mazikeen reported.

“Send him up to the penthouse when he gets here,” Lucifer ordered.

“You’re really going to use a favor to fix up some random chick who got slashed?” Mazikeen asked disdainfully.

Lucifer gathered Darcy in his arms, uncaring of the ruin she made of his suit. “You could say I owe  _ her _ a favor,” he retorted. “Or her father, at least.” He carried her to a private elevator. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Doctor Trembley is the best plastic surgeon in LA. He’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Darcy gritted her teeth and didn’t reply.

He carried her out of the elevator and into a dimly-lit suite, laying her carefully down on a leather sectional. “Are you in pain? I think I have some pills somewhere…”

Darcy was definitely  _ not _ going to accept random pills from the Devil of all people, so she shook her head. “No painkillers,” she muttered through a clenched jaw.

“Now, now,” Lucifer chided. “There’s no need to be brave.”

“No. Painkillers,” Darcy growled, her eyes flashing with furious red stars. She held the towel over the wound on her face. The blood was beginning to dry, glueing the fabric to the wound. It would be agonizing when it had to be peeled away.

“Very well,” Lucifer said, raising his hands in defeat. “No need to get nasty.” He hesitated for a second. “Is there anyone I can call for you? I have a cell phone now, you see. Just got one. Didn’t need one before, but I’m a consultant with the--”

“Give,” Darcy ordered, holding out her free hand. Every heartbeat throbbed with pain, the damaged nerves screaming with every pulse. Lucifer handed over the phone without arguing.

Cece picked up on the third ring. “‘Lo?”

“Cece, I need you to go wake up Jesse and Sleip, right now.”

“Dee?” Cece mumbled sleepily. “I was having such a terrible dream. What time is it?”

“Mom,  _ listen _ to me. Wake up the boys  _ right now _ .”

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Cece asked, sounding more awake. “What happened?”

“I can’t explain everything right now. Just wake up to boys and don’t go back to sleep until I tell you it’s safe.”

“Safe? What are you talking about?”

“There’s something in the Dreaming, Mom, and it’s attacking people,” Darcy told her. “You can’t go to sleep until I know it’s safe.”

“Okay, Dee,” Cece said. “I’ll get the boys up. Are you safe?”

“I am for now,” Darcy replied, glancing up at Lucifer, who was hovering. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, Dee.”

“‘Mom’?” he echoed when she put the phone down next to her on the sofa. “I had heard Freyja died, some time ago.”

“My foster mother,” Darcy said tersely. “She raised me.”

“Ah,” Lucifer said, and offered her the tumbler in his hand. It had about an inch of amber liquid in the bottom. “Drink?”

Darcy knew she wasn’t human, and she knew Helena wasn’t human either, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. She shook her head and winced when the wound on her face pulled open. She wondered if it would leave a scar, and if Loki digged chicks with scars.

The doctor arrived a short time later. He was an attractive Indian man with a short, dark beard. He began by bitching at Lucifer about waking him up in the middle of the night, only to instantly switch gears when he saw Darcy on the couch clutching a bloody towel to her head.

“Dammit, Lucifer, she needs a hospital,” Dr. Trembley barked, sitting next to Darcy and opening his kit. “And a blood transfusion.”

“No hospitals,” Darcy gritted out. Her jaw was beginning to ache from clenching. “No blood.”

“You may not have a choice,” Trembley told her. “It’s a miracle you haven’t passed out yet. What happened?”

“I was attacked,” Darcy said without really meaning to.

“By who, Wolverine?” Trembley asked dryly.

“It was dark. I didn’t see.”

“Well, I’m going to need to clean the wounds before I can suture. And you’re getting a tetanus shot. And I’ll write you a script for penicillin as well. I imagine you’re in a lot of pain, but all I have on me is morphine.”

“No painkillers,” Darcy insisted. 

“Miss, cleaning and suturing the wounds is going to be very uncomfortable,” Trembley warned her. “I don’t have general anesthesia, but let me at least use local.”

“I can handle it,” Darcy said, and promptly passed out.

She woke up a short time later to the doctor reaming Lucifer out again. “--favor, I didn’t think you would want me to patch up a woman in your living room who has clearly suffered a horrific attack. If you don’t call the police, I will!”

Darcy sat bolt upright and was hit by a wave of pain and nausea so intense she threw up on the shiny black floor. The doctor was at her side in an instant.

“Be careful,” he told her shortly. “You don’t want to pull your stitches out.”

Darcy reached up and touched her cheek, feeling the bandages covering the new sutures. “You already stitched me up?” she asked groggily. 

“You’ve been out for over an hour,” the doctor replied. “I figured I might as well take advantage of it.”

“Fuck,” Darcy muttered, her head spinning.

“Not the best idea, considering your current condition,” Lucifer said glibly, hovering over the doctor’s shoulder. “But when you’re feeling better, I’d be quite happy to oblige.”

“I’m married, you ass,” Darcy snapped. The pain was beginning to fade to a sharp ache; still enough to make her irritable. 

“Most people don’t mind,” Lucifer said with a smirk. 

“Stop flirting with my patient,” Trembley ordered. He turned back to Darcy. “Do we need to call the police?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Are you safe at home?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Darcy asked blankly.

“Did someone do this to you? Your husband, perhaps?”

“My husband?” Darcy asked in confusion. “No, no. He didn’t do this. I don’t know what it was. I didn’t see it.”

Trembley looked frustrated. “Well, if there’s a knife-wielding maniac running around, then the police should know!”

As he spoke, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a petite blonde woman wearing a sports jacket. “The police should know what?” she asked as she stepped out. “Lucifer, where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.”

Darcy glanced down at the phone that was still next to her on the couch. There were sixteen missed calls from ‘Detective’.

“Great,” Darcy muttered.

“I have been otherwise occupied,” Lucifer replied, gesturing toward Darcy with the glass tumbler in his hand. “This poor young woman was attacked here, on my very doorstep.”

“Why didn’t you take her to the hospital?” the woman demanded, circling the sofa to approach Darcy.

“That’s what  _ I _ asked,” Trembley said dryly.

“I’m Detective Decker with the LAPD,” the woman told Darcy. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Darcy started to shake her head and stopped when the room began to spin. “It was dark. I didn’t see anything.”

“Okay, well, we should still get you down to the station to take a statement.”

“I’m sure there are far more pressing matters at hand, Detective,” Lucifer interjected. “A murder, perhaps?”

The detective frowned. “Yes. That’s why I was trying to reach you. We had a double homicide called in at a surf shop in Brentwood.”

Darcy’s stomach twisted again. “Beach Break?” she asked weakly, hoping she was wrong.

“How did you know that?” the detective asked sharply, her expression hardening.

“I used to work there,” Darcy whispered, and threw up again.

xXx

They wouldn’t let her into the shop. Detective Decker told her to stay in the car and left Dr Trembley, who had insisted on coming, to keep an eye on her. Darcy’s stomach hurt from vomiting and her chest ached at the thought of something happening to Owen and Brent. Her anxiety wouldn’t let her stay still, her knee bouncing nervously.

“Are you  _ sure _ you don’t want something for the pain?” the doctor asked.

“No,  _ thank _ you,” Darcy snapped. She felt guilty; he had done nothing but help her, but she didn’t apologize. 

After a few minutes Decker emerged from the shop with a camera in her hands. She walked straight over to Darcy. “How well did you know the owners?” she asked brusquely.

“Very,” Darcy replied miserably.

The detective showed her the camera screen. “Do you recognize these tattoos?”

The photo was of a man’s bare chest, spattered with blood. Darcy felt her gorge rise, but there was nothing left to throw up. “That’s Owen,” she said thickly. “The owner.”

“And these?” Decker continued, scrolling to the next photo.

“Oh my god,” Darcy gulped. “That’s Brent, his husband. Are they both…”

“Sweets? What are you doing here?”

Darcy turned toward the familiar voice that Decker seemed unable to hear. Her aunt stood a few steps away, wearing a black tank dress and black leggings. Darcy retched and gagged, bringing up only bile. 

“Oh, sweets. Did you know them?”

Darcy nodded, her nose running and tears streaming from her eyes. “They were my friends,” she whispered. “What happened to them?”

“It’s not pretty,” Death told her gently, coming over to pat her on the back. Detective Decker still didn’t seem to notice; she waited patiently for an answer.

“Do you know who killed them?” Darcy asked, her throat raw from acid and tears.

Death shook her head. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Darcy sniffed. “It sucks having family who know  _ everything _ but tell you  _ nothing _ .”

Her aunt frowned and touched the bandage on Darcy’s face. “We don’t know everything. What happened to you?”

“Something attacked me in the Dreaming.”

“Does your father know?”

“About the thing? Yes. That it attacked me, no. At least, I don’t think so.”

“He’ll want to know,” Death said. “Shall I call for him?”

Darcy snorted, wiping her tears away with her hands. “You saw who was inside?”

Death glanced back at the shop. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’ve seen him around before. Apparently he’s helping the police, now.”

“Whatever. But it’s probably best Dad’s not around for a while.”

“Probably,” Death agreed. “I can’t stay long. Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. For now, anyway.”

Death patted her thigh. “Call me if you need me, sweets.”

“Where were you between five and seven this afternoon,” Decker asked, not aware of the conversation that had just happened.

“At my mom’s house,” Darcy replied, tears leaking from her eyes again. “I’m staying there with my step-son while my husband is… out of the country.”

“When did this happen?” Decker asked, gesturing to the bandages.

“I don’t know, maybe two?” Darcy closed her eyes. “I met my brother at Lux around one thirty.”

“I arrived at exactly two-fourty-seven,” Trembley announced. “And she had clearly been in this condition for at least half an hour.”

“And you didn’t see who attacked you?”

“ _ No _ . It was  _ dark _ .”

“How long did you work for Beach Break?”

“Three months. I left about eight months ago.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I got married,” Darcy snapped, starting to get irritated. “Am I a suspect? Do I need a lawyer?”

“I’m just trying to get as many details as possible,” Decker assured her. “Wait here please.”

She returned shortly with Lucifer in tow. “I hardly thing it’s appropriate given the circumstances,” Lucifer was saying in an undertone as Decker dragged him along by the arm. “She is  _ severely _ injured.”

“But we don’t don’t know  _ how _ she was injured,” Decker whispered back. “Just  _ ask _ her.”

“Very well, Lucifer acquiesced with ill grace. He approached Darcy. “Miss Darcy, hello. How are you feeling?”

“I hurt like a motherfucker,” she replied shortly. “What do you want?”

“Lucifer leaned toward her, his dark eyes gleaming with untold power. A strange aura gathered around him, pushing at Darcy, urging her to trust him. “Tell me, Darcy,” he said in a husky voice. “What do you truly desire?”

For a moment Darcy almost told him. Then the effects of whatever power he held wore off. She had a split second to think, and then said, “I want my husband to come home.” Lucifer might be aware she was not human, but Decker didn’t suspect anything, and Darcy would like it to stay that way.

Lucifer straightened. “See? Nothing of the sort. Wait. Where is your husband?”

“Out of the country,” Darcy replied sourly.

“Thank you for cooperating with us, Mrs. Gersemi,” Detective Decker said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I’ll arrange to have someone take you home.”

“I can handle that,” Trembley spoke up. “She’ll need to be under observation at least until morning.”

Decker hesitated, and as she hesitated, a woman with a camera and a jacket that said ‘CSI’ walked up to her. “Detective, you should see this.”

Decker looked at the proffered camera and her expression hardened. “Actually, Mrs Gersemi, you’ll need to come down to the station with me.”

xXx

Darcy was in danger. Loki felt her breathing and heart rate spike suddenly. The link to her bracelet had been a comfort to him over the past weeks, assuring him of her safety. But now something terrible had happened, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

Muttering curses under his breath, Loki shoved the remains of his meager meal into his pack and buckled it closed. He had been in the caves for hours but there had been no sign of the creature he was supposed to slay. He had a sneaking suspicion the creature didn’t exist at all, and he was here in the dark chasing star-beetles.

He strapped the pack onto his shoulders, marked the wall with a sigil that would glow until sunrise, and set off deeper into the cave.

The smell reached him first. It was decaying flesh mixed with heavy, oily musk, and it was almost overpowering. He slowed his progress and crept forward along the cave wall, ears straining for any sign of movement. He heard the crack of bone and the ripping of flesh, growls and chewing. He came to a bend in the tunnel and paused before peering around the corner.

The  _ val-dýr _ was taller than Loki if it stood on his hind legs, covered in shaggy, gray-white fur. It was in the process of devouring the half-rotted remains of what looked like a mountain goat. Its claws tore through the decaying flesh with disturbing ease. Loki retreated back behind the corner of the tunnel. A ranged weapon would be ideal, even a spear. 

Loki summoned all his daggers from storage and laid them on the ground to examine them. He had seven, not including the one Angrboða had given him. The longest was the length of his forearm and double edged, made for piercing armor. He chose that one and dismissed the rest.

Using a tiny amount of magick, Loki temporarily lengthened the hilt of the dagger until it became a short throwing spear. He hefted the spear a few times, adjusting the weight and balance until he deemed it perfect. He might only have one chance, so he needed to make it count.

The noises of the beast devouring its prey began to taper off. Loki knew he would have to move quickly. He checked on the creature again. It had lost interest in its meal and was rooting around the pile of broken bones, cracking them with its large, sharp teeth.

Loki stepped out into the open and flung the spear with all his strength. It pierced the beast just below its left foreleg, the blade disappearing under its fur. It let out an ear-splitting roar and charged at Loki, staggering as it went. Loki held his ground until the last second, then spun out of the way as agile as a dancer. But the creature was just as nimble, and its claws cut across the back of Loki’s shoulders, tearing through the leather vest and into his skin.

Loki stumbled forward with a cry of pain. The smell of blood enraged the beast and it thrashed around in the dark, searching for Loki. He realized that it was blind a moment before its heavy paw impacted his stomach, sending him crashing against the cave wall and knocking the breath out of his lungs. He had no time to recover before the beast was atop him.

He held the beast off with his forearm pressed against its throat. It slavered hungrily, gobs of drool falling onto Loki’s face. He scrambled at his belt with his right hand, finally finding the dagger Angrboða had given him. He drew it and plunged it deep into the beast’s throat, releasing a gout of blood over Loki’s face. Steam billowed as the hot blood came in contact with his ice-cold skin.

The beast collapsed onto Loki, it’s last breath rattling in its throat. Loki gasped for breath, trying to draw air into his bruised lungs.

When he was able to breathe properly again, he shoved the corpse off of himself and staggered upright. The fur on the back of his vest was clotting in the blood from his wounds, and for the moment he let it be. It would stop the bleeding for now.

He surveyed the body of the creature with a deep sigh. He would have to drag the body back the way he had come, and he only had until sunrise to do so. He checked the bracelet and was relieved to see it still glowed fairly brightly. If he hurried, he would make it in time.

Angrboða paced back and forth across the cave mouth, muttering to themselves. They looked up at the sounds of dragging as Loki emerged from the cave, covered in blood and half carrying, half dragging the corpse of the beast. The sky was still dark.

“You’re alive!” Angrboða exclaimed, rushing over to meet him. Loki grunted and dropped the body of the  _ val-dýr _ . “Are you wounded?”

“Yes,” he replied shortly, lowering himself onto a nearby rock. Angrboða peeled the vest away from his wounds, hissing in sympathetic pain when they saw the extent of the injuries. They used fresh-fallen snow to clean the lacerations and then bound them with strips of undyed wool. 

“Laufey King will be pleased,” Angrboða said. “You have passed the first Trial.”

“I didn’t do it for him,” Loki replied softly. He remained seated for several minutes, staring at the innocent creature he had been forced to slay. Then he rose to his feet. “We should get back to the palace. I imagine the War Chiefs are eager for news of my failure.”


	34. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey my sweets! 
> 
> I am working my way through writers block for literally everything except this story. I have discovered that hand-writing a chapter outline / screen play sort of thing helps get through the block. Hopefully I'll have chapters of Into The Unknown coming soon.
> 
> And just as a reminder, I have my own website and email domain! Check out sineadsmith3.com and hit me up at sinead@sineadsmith3.com!

The interrogation room was cold, most likely deliberately so. Darcy pulled her duster jacket tighter around herself and crossed her arms. Her face and shoulder burned with a deep, throbbing ache. Dr. Trembley had insisted on coming with them to the police station, complaining at the top of his lungs the whole time. Once they reached the station, he tracked down some ibuprofen and wouldn’t leave Darcy alone until she had taken some. They had yet to take effect.

Darcy tapped her foot impatiently. There were a thousand things she should be doing, but as long as whatever creature it was that stalked the Dreaming was still at large, she was stuck in the Waking, and at the mercy of the LAPD.

The door to the interrogation room finally opened, allowing Detective Decker and Lucifer into the room. Darcy straightened and winced when the motion pulled at her wounds.

“Dr. Trembley says you are still refusing to go to the hospital,” Decker began, setting the folder in her hands on the table as she took a seat. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t like hospitals,” Darcy replied shortly. “Why am I here?”

“I have a few more questions for you, Mrs. Gersemi,” Decker said, opening the folder to reveal a stack of photos. “First of all, I’m not seeing an ID for you in our system.”

“That’s because it’s under my adopted name. I started to go by my birth name recently.”

“Oh?” Decker asked, folding her hands atop the photos. “And why is that?”

“Because my adopted mother is an abusive sack of shit and my birth father actually gives a fuck about me,” Darcy said flatly.

“I see,” Decker said, but otherwise didn’t react. “Tell me again where you were between five and seven yesterday evening.”

“Eating dinner with my foster mother, my foster brother, and my step-son,” Darcy told her. “We had meatloaf, except for my step-son who doesn’t eat meat. He had macaroni and cheese with broccoli. Would you like to know what we had for dessert?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you.” Decker consulted her files. “Did you receive any phone calls yesterday?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Mr. Kameāloha made a phone call to a number listed under your name in his contacts at 4:56 PM.”

“I  _ had _ a cell phone,” Darcy explained impatiently. “I got rid of it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone to be able to track me. Which is clearly not working.”

“Why do you say that?” Decker asked with deceptive nonchalance.

“Because in the next fifteen minutes or so, you’re going to get a call from SHIELD telling you to keep me in custody until they can send a representative,” Darcy said wearily.

“SHIELD?” Decker echoed. “Why are you on SHIELD’s radar?”

“I used to contract with them,” Darcy explained. “I broke my contract. They’re not happy about it.”

“Hmm.” Decker didn’t comment further. She selected a photo and turned it toward Darcy, laying it on the table in front of her. It depicted a wall in the work room of Beach Break. Smeared on the wall in blood were the words ‘Warn Darcy’.

“Warn you about what?” Decker asked.

A chill ran up Darcy’s spine. “How were they killed?” she asked softly.

“That’s still under investigation.”

“Well, I can’t tell you anything else until I know how they were killed.”

“Their brains were boiled in their skulls,” Lucifer spoke for the first time.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Darcy whispered feelingly. She took a deep breath and ran through all the spells, creatures, and people she knew of that could accomplish that. She only came up with one result. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Decker demanded.

“I think I know who killed them, but you’re not going to believe me.”

“Try me,” Decker said. “I’ve seen plenty of weird and unexplained things.”

Lucifer snorted. But before Darcy could reply, there was a knock on the door and then it opened. A uniformed police officer stuck her head into the room. “Detective? There’s a phone call for you.”

Decker’s expression hardened. “Excuse me one moment,” she said, and got to her feet. Lucifer didn’t rise with her and she gave him a quizzical look.

“I think I’ll keep an eye on Mrs. Gersemi here,” Lucifer told her. “Considering her injuries.”

“Fine,” Decker said shortly. “Don’t  _ do _ anything until I come back.”

Once they were alone, Lucifer leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “There are cameras in here,” he said casually. “They record audio.”

Loki had taught her a spell for that. “Not anymore,” Darcy said.

“Excellent. So. Who killed your friends?”

“A witch.”

Lucifer stared at her for several seconds. “A witch. From the Greencoven? Don’t they have very strict rules about killing?”

“They do, which means it’s one of two witches in particular,” Darcy replied. “Amora or her sister Lorelei. I’ve never met Amora, but Lorelei doesn’t like me very much.”

“And why is that?”

“Lots of reasons. I married her ex. She hates her ex. She works for her ex’s brother, who also hates her ex.”

“Sounds like a lovely family you married into,” Lucifer said dryly.

Darcy shrugged. “Mine isn’t much more functional. My dad’s sibling has tried to kill him half a dozen times in the last century  _ alone _ .”

Lucifer blinked. “Which one?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Darcy said shortly. “Point is, if Lorelei is out to get me, Owen and Brent will just be the first victims, not the last. And that means my family is in danger.”

“Your foster family and step-son?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me their address. I’ll make sure they are safe.”

“Yeah, see, I still don’t know if I can trust you,” Darcy said, leaning forward so she could prop her elbows on the table. “I appreciate you tending my wounds and all, but you still tried to kill my dad.”

“Things are different now,” Lucifer said, waving a hand. “I have no need for your father to be contained.”

“See, that’s not enough,” Darcy replied, shaking her head. “I’m going to need a little more.”

The door opened once more and Decker stepped in, looking extremely disgruntled. “SHIELD has a rep on the way,” she said shortly. “They want us to keep you secure until he arrives.”

“I’ll refrain from saying ‘I told you so’,” Darcy said.

xXx

They made him a crown from the skull of the  _ val-dýr _ . Angrboða brought it to him mere hours after they returned to the palace. It was accompanied by a necklace made from the lower jaw of the beast and a cloak made from its pelt. Loki knew that Angrboða had made the pieces themselves, considering the quality after such a short time.

“Laufey King is preparing a feast in your honor,” they told him. “He wishes you to sit at his side.”

“His kingdom starves and he throws a feast for me?” Loki asked, examining the skull crown. “Sounds like a waste.”

“It is traditional during the trials,” Angrboða explained. “A feast is thrown after each successful completion.”

Loki carefully placed the crown on the table beside him. “I will, of course, attend.”

They bowed slightly. “I will tell him of your decision.”

When he was finally alone, Loki carefully unwrapped the strips of wool around his abdomen. He summoned an obsidian mirror he usually used for scrying and used it to inspect his back. The wound edges were clean and straight; they would heal cleanly and with minimal scarring. The tattoos that covered his body in his Aesir form were magickal in nature, and would easily adapt to the scars.

Angrboða had also brought him new clothing: another fur-lined vest and leather trousers dyed a deep mahogany color. He dressed quickly and picked up the skull crown, turning it this way and that to take a second look at it. The bone was bleached white and decorated with streaks of plant dye. The eye sockets were stained deep blue; the upper fangs coated in glittering micah. He carefully lowered it onto his head. It was surprisingly comfortable. He fastened the necklace around his neck and slung the cloak over his shoulders.

A servant announced their presence by knocking, and bowed low when Loki answered the door. The servant escorted Loki through the palace, leaving him at the door to the throne room. Angrboða appeared at his elbow as if from thin air.

The wool wrappings Angrboða usually covered themselves in were gone. They wore a white leather dress, sewn all over with fluttering strips of hammered gold and bronze that caught and reflected the light.

“They are waiting for you,” they said.

“They can wait a little longer,” Loki replied.

“You look as a prince should,” Angrboða said, almost shyly. “Fierce and strong.”

“I look like a savage,” Loki said dryly. He could tell immediately that his words had hurt Angrboða. They stepped back from him, shaking their hair down to cover their face. They wore their hair long, the shiny, blue-black strands plaited into numerous braids.

“Is that how you see us?” they asked softly. “As savages?”

Loki bit his tongue. He had been treated with nothing but courtesy since he’d arrived on Jötunheimr, despite being a captive. “No,” he admitted. “Not anymore. My apologies.”

“We may not be as grand as Asgard,” Angrboða went on. “But we are a proud people, and we have striven hard for what we have.”

“The grandeur of Asgard hides a rotten core,” Loki said darkly. “I would not hold them up as a shining example of civilization.”

“You don’t have a high opinion of them,” Angrboða said, surprised.

“I never really did,” Loki admitted.

Angrboða waited for several moments to see if he would say anything else, but when he held his silence, they asked, “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Loki sighed. “I just wish I did not have to face them alone.”

Angrboða touched his arm. “You’re not alone,” they said softly. He smiled faintly, nodding. They might be his jailor, but perhaps they could also be his ally.

“Thank you.” He offered them his arm, and they tentatively placed their hand on his elbow. Angrboða gestured toward the door with their free hand and it swung open of its own accord. The Throne room had been converted to a banquet hall. Tables made of wood and stone divided the hall into three, with one shorter table on the dais in front of the throne. Býleister sat at Laufey’s left along with an unfamiliar Jötun who was no more than a child. Two empty chairs sat to Laufey’s right.

Laufey stood as Loki and Angrboða entered, prompting the rest of the guests to do so as well. Laufey raised the goblet in his hand. “Behold my first born son,” he announced in a booming voice. “Victor of the first trial.”

“Hail to the victor!” cried the guests.

Loki was not sure who escorted who, but he and Angrboða made it to the table on the dais without incident. The chairs waiting for them were scaled for their smaller stature. Angrboða picked up the goblet waiting for Loki and pressed it into his hand.

“Drink,” they whispered. Loki raised the goblet to salute Laufey and took a small sip. It was bloodwine, thick and syrupy and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant; it was brewed from the sap of the bloodwood trees that grew in the warmer valleys on Jötunheimr.

Laufey nodded in approval and sat, allowing the rest of the hall to also take their seats. Servants began to bring platters of food to the tables, but the main course appeared to be the carcass of the  _ val-dýr _ itself, heavily spiced and seared with acidic juices. Two servants carried the massive tray to the king’s table.

“To the victor goes first choice,” Laufey announced loudly.

Loki blinked and then stared at the carcass, unsure of which cut he should choose. He had no desire to choose  _ any _ cut at all. He still remembered the stench of the beast and the feel of its fetid breath on his face.

Angrboða leaned toward him. “The heart,” they hissed. “Choose the heart.”

“I choose the heart of the beast,” Loki said immediately, raising his voice so it would carry.

This pleased most of the guests. They cheered and pounded on the tabletops. Loki noted that the War Chiefs did not seem impressed. Another servant brought out a smaller plate laden with the heart of the  _ val-dýr _ . It had been roasted and sliced thinly, seasoned and garnished with brightly-colored dried mushrooms.

“I thought you would prefer it prepared this way,” Laufey said in an undertone. “I understand that you do not enjoy your meat raw.”

“I do not prefer meat at all,” Loki retorted, but accepted the dish. Jötnar aite with a single utensil; a thin, sharp spike with which to stab food. The heart was inexpertly cooked and not tender, but Loki’s sharp teeth made short work of it.

“It has been more than a generation since anyone underwent the Trials,” Laufey told Loki. “The Jötnar are pleased with your success.”

“Not all of them,” Loki replied dryly, glancing around the hall at the War Chiefs. “Some of them would rather I had perished.”

“Hmm,” Laufey rumbled. His red eyes were brooding. “They continue to plot behind my back. There is reason I have requested you confine yourself to your quarters. It would be best not to give them opportunity.”

“I would like to see the city more,” Loki said, picking off the mushrooms and eating those. “I would see the people I am to rule.” 

“I cannot allow that,” Laufey said immediately. “It is too dangerous.”

“Sire, I can accompany him into the city,” Býleister spoke up. “Angrboða and I will keep him from harm.”

“If the manacles were removed, I would be more than capable of protecting myself,” Loki said dryly.

Laufey gave him a knowing look. “I am afraid you have not yet proven yourself yet, my son. I cannot be certain of your loyalties.”

Loki kept his frustration off his face and raised an eyebrow. “My loyalties are to my blood first and always,” he said, and it was not a lie. “Over any kingdom or citizenship.”

Laufey nodded gravely. “As it should be.”


	35. Son of the Deep Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry about the long delay in posting. I got very sick with a lung infection and it took me forever to kick. I'm still not up to 100% but I'm doing a lot better.
> 
> Nyxphos is almost done with the cover for This Is Gospel. We will be doing things a bit differently. If you are interested in purchasing a copy, shoot me an email at sinead@sineadsmith3.com and I will send you a link when it is ready. the_dark_becomes_her is also working on illustrations for my children's book, Haizea Wolf, and it will be available the same way. Please let me know if you are interested in either. Thank you!

Darcy’s knee bounced. She couldn’t get it to stop. The chair was not comfortable to someone in her condition and she was barely holding off an anxiety attack. What if Cece hadn’t been able to keep the boys awake? What if whatever had attacked her went after her foster brother or her step-son?

_What if, what if, what if_ …

Detective Decker was doing her best to ignore Darcy’s restlessness with debatable success. Darcy wasn’t sure how the detective could stand to work with Lucifer if simple knee-bouncing put her on edge.

Speaking of the Devil…

Lucifer walked toward Decker’s desk with a mug of coffee in each hand. He placed one on Decker’s desk by her elbow (but not so close that she would accidentally knock it over) and offered the second one to Darcy. She took it to be polite but the smell of it was actually appetizing, so she took a cautious sip.

“Please tell me you didn’t make this,” Decker said, and Darcy froze before the liquid could actually touch her lips.

“Of course not,” Lucifer said, laying a hand over his heart. “Officer Haley was kind enough to do it for me.” He smirked and winked at Darcy. She rolled her eyes and finished tasting the coffee. Unlike Air Force coffee, which was made by the gallon by NCO’s who would have drunk starter fluid if it kept them awake, it was actually pretty decent.

Decker slapped a file on her desk and glared at Lucifer. “Stop flirting with the patrol officers. You’ll get them in trouble.”

“A little flirting never hurt anyone,” Lucifer protested.

“It does when it’s you,” Decker retorted. She tasted the coffee with obvious skepticism but seemed satisfied with the quality. She set the mug down and turned to Darcy. “Is there anything else you can think of that could help us? Any enemies that might be motivated to hurt you?”

Darcy started to laugh and stopped herself, deeming the reaction inappropriate. “I’m sorry. I can’t say anything else until my SHIELD rep gets here. I know I have the right to remain silent.”

“You’re not a suspect at this time, Mrs. Gersemi,” Decker said.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “ ‘At this time.’ “ She echoed.

Decker frowned. “Who are you protecting?”

“You,” Darcy said firmly. “Trust me. I’m protecting you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Decker assured her.

“I’m sure you can,” Darcy replied. “Under _normal_ circumstances.”

Decker was about to push the issue when a male detective stopped by the desk, glared at Lucifer, and spoke to Decker. “Hey. There’s someone from SHIELD asking to talk to you.”

Decker sighed deeply. “Thanks, Dan.” She got to her feet. Darcy jumped up as well and swayed dangerously when she suddenly became light-headed. Lucifer caught her arm, keeping her on her feet.

“Steady there,” he said. “Can’t have you tipping over.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said breathlessly, clinging to the lapels of his suit jacket. “Just a little dizzy.”

“I tend to have that effect on women,” Lucifer teased with a good-natured leer.

“Keep telling yourself that, bozo,” Darcy replied flatly.

Decker barked out a laugh that seemed to surprise her. She covered her mouth briefly with her hand. “What?” she asked defensively when Lucifer glared at her. “Looks like not _everyone_ falls for your charms.”

“Every _human_ ,” Lucifer muttered, loud enough only for Darcy to hear.

Darcy was disappointed to discover that the SHIELD representative was no one she recognized. The man waiting for them at the reception desk was bald and bespectacled, with an air of importance and impatience.

“Agent Jasper Sitwell with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” he said, puffing his chest up and holding out a badge wallet. “I’m here to collect Darcy Lewis.”

“There’s no one here by that name,” Decker said mildly. 

Agent Sitwell scowled at Darcy, who stared blankly back at him. “Darcy _Gersemi_ , as she insists on calling herself.”

“ ‘Collect’?” Detective Decker echoed. “Is she in custody?”

“She is a SHIELD asset,” Sitwell said firmly. “I’ll be taking her in for questioning.”

“Why?” Decker asked, her blue eyes wide with innocent curiosity. “Is she a suspect? Do you have a warrant?”

“Detective Decker, if you don’t turn her over immediately, I’ll have you charged with obstruction,” Sitwell finally snapped.

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Detective, I’ve changed my mind. I _don’t_ want my SHIELD rep present. Not if he’s going to be an ass-hat.”

“You _don’t_ get a choice in the matter, Miss Lewis,” Sitwell told her. “I’ve got orders to bring you in.”

Darcy crossed her arms. “What’s your clearance level, Agent Sitwell?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he retorted.

“You hear about what happened on the _Dread Nocturne_ ?” Darcy went on. “Because that’s the _last_ time someone tried to make me do something I didn’t want to.”

Sitwell turned an ashy gray color. “You _wouldn’t_ ,” he hissed at her. “Not _here_.”

Darcy shrugged and then nodded at Decker and Lucifer. “Not to _them_ , anyway. You? I don’t like your chances.”

“The Director is going to hear about this,” Sitwell snarled at her, and then turned on his heel. He beat a hasty retreat out the front doors of the precinct.

“What's the _Dread Nocturne_?” Decker asked.

“A ship full of terrorists,” Darcy replied. “Classified. You understand.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. “So does this mean you’re going to cooperate?”

Darcy sighed deeply. “As much as I can,” she agreed.

xXx

It was Laufey, not Angrboða, who came to Loki’s chambers the morning after the feast. Loki stared up in surprise at his progenitor when he answered the soft knock, his mind racing.

“Your Majesty,” Loki greeted politely. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“You wished to see the Jötnar people,” Laufey replied. He was dressed plainly, in a kilt and a wool shirt that covered his tribal markings. “I had a mind to take you into the city, if you are willing.”

“I am willing, yes,” Loki replied quickly, wishing he didn’t sound as eager as he did. He was growing restive again, cooped up in his chambers, as comfortable as they were. And he still needed to earn Laufey’s trust in order to convince him to have the thorn manacles removed.

Angrboða did join them, once more cloaked in their wool wrappings. They set out from the palace from a side entrance, trying to avoid notice as much as possible.

The palace was set on the peak of a mountain, a winding path leading down to the city below. The city was carved from the mountain itself, blending in with the craggy stone and blowing snow. The streets of the city were as busy as those of any city in Asgard, Jötnar going about their daily taste in the bitter weather as if it were a bright summer day.

No one paid them much mind other than a few incurious glances. As they walked, Loki noticed the crumbling architecture, the lean and hungry faces, the lack of small children running through the streets.

Laufey brought them to a marketplace: the nerve center of the city. No one recognized Laufey as he shouldered his way through the crowd, heading toward the center of the market. A cry rising over the hubbub drew all three of them to a halt.

“Magi! Magi!”

Loki looked around with a frown. The title was old and rarely used on Asgard. He wondered briefly who they meant before a Jötun carrying a small bundle pushed his way to Angrboða’s side. “Magi,” he greeted respectfully, bowing first to Angrboða and then to Loki. “My child,” he continued, holding out the bundle. “He is sick. He does not thrive.”

Loki saw with shock that the child in the Jötun was small, the size of an Aesir or Vanir infant. In the hands of the giant, it looked pitifully small and weak. Its skin was pale blue, not the deep, vibrant sapphire of its progenitor. It blinked open blood-red eyes and then screwed them shut again with a pitiful cry.

“Many _smárvolk_ do not survive their first winter,” Angrboða said sadly, leaning over to peer at the infant. “Does he eat?”

“He does not eat,” the Jötun replied, shaking his head. “We tried dripping milk in his mouth, and then fresh heart’s blood, but he will not swallow. He grows weaker each day.”

“He was born of the deep winter,” Angrboða said. “To the deep winter he will return. I am sorry. There is nothing to be done.”

The heartbreak on the Jötun’s face was wrenching. Loki’s thoughts flew to Darcy, of their unborn daughter, and how he would feel if someone said something similar of their child. The thought was unconscionable.

“Give me the child,” Loki said, reaching for the infant. “I have been trained in healing magicks. Perhaps I can save him.”

The Jötun hesitated before placing the infant in Loki’s arms. “Can you truly help him, Magus?”

“I will try,” Loki promised, cradling the infant as cautiously as he would unstable _vetr-grœn_. “What is his name?”

“He has not been given a name yet, Magus,” the child’s parent said, tracing one thick finger over the subtle markings on the child’s forehead. “Not until his first blooding. You know this.”

“Of course,” Loki said quickly. “What is your name then, that we may send for you if the child recovers?”

“I am Frigr, of the line of Fydor,” he replied.

“Very well, Frigr of the line of Fydor,” Loki said. “I will care for your son until he is well enough to return to you.”

“Many children die in the deep winter,” Laufey said gravely as they made their way back to the palace. “There is no guarantee of his survival.”

“No, but it does not hurt to try,” Loki said irately. He slipped the infant into the front of his vest to shield him from the bitter wind. “The child at least deserves a chance. All children do.”

“Hmm,” was all that Laufey said, and fell into a thoughtful silence.

Loki’s only thought was the welfare of the infant, and he had no interest in anything other than getting the child back to his quarters to examine him properly. Angrboða accompanied him to his chambers, stripping off their wrappings once they were in private.

Loki laid the infant on his bed and pulled away the blankets. The child’s ribs were clearly seen through his ribs, his stomach worryingly bloated. “He is badly malnourished,” Angrboða observed, poking the infant gently in the abdomen.

“He won’t swallow,” Loki muttered to himself, testing the infant’s joints and rubbing his skiing briskly until the baby mewled in protest. “If he won’t swallow then the food must reach his stomach another way.”

“How?” Angrboða challenged. “A child that cannot eat cannot thrive.”

“A child who cannot eat must be helped to eat,” Loki retorted. “I need a tube: long, thin, and flexible. And a boring needle; as sharp and strong as you can find. Milk, if it is available. And a flame. I need a source of flame.”

Angrboða only looked alarmed at that last. “What need do you have for a flame? Do you intend to roast the child?”

“Fire kills sickness,” Loki snapped. “This child will sicken from infection without it.”

“Jötnar do not die of infection,” Angrboða said disdainfully. “Microbes cannot live in our blood.”

“They will in his,” Loki retorted. “Feel his skin. It is warm, or as warm as a Jötun’s can be.”

Angrboða frowned and felt the boy’s forehead. “He is too warm,” they agreed reluctantly. “I will fetch you what you need. Be mindful, though. Among the Jötnar, a child must thrive on their own, or be given to the deep winter.”

“He will thrive,” Loki insisted. “He just needs a little help.”

Angrboða didn’t look convinced, but they left the chambers and returned less than an hour later with the supplies that Loki needed, including a tiny oil lamp with a small, flickering flame. Loki used the flame to sanitize the needle, then pierced a hole in the infant’s abdomen into his stomach. Using magick and a great deal of care, Loki fed the tube into the infant’s stomach so he could pump a little bit of milk through the tube.

“Do you think this will work?” Angrboða asked skeptically.

“It’s the best chance he has,” Loki replied. The baby had already fallen back to sleep, having a full belly for the first time in his short life.

“He’s been blooded,” Angrboða observed, picking at the rags Loki had used to clean the infant after the procedure. “He needs a name.”

“I’m not the one to give it to him,” Loki said.

“You blooded him,” Angrboða insisted. “You must give him a name.”

Loki hesitated for several moments. He did not know Jötun culture well enough to find a loophole, but he did not want to offend Angrboða, either. He needed to gain their trust if they were ever to remove the thorn manacles.

“Freyr,” he finally said, pulling the first name that came to her mind. “Freyr of the line of Fydor.”

Angrboða nodded gravely. “That is a good name. Freyr.” She tapped the sleeping infant on the forehead. “He has been blooded in Ymir’s sight and now the Great Father may see him for all his life, never to be lost or unwanted. Freyr, of the line of Fydor, you are a Son of the Deep Winter and to the Deep Winter one day you will return.”

Loki tilted his head in surprise. Angrboða caught the expression on his face.

“What is it?” they asked.

“Nothing,” Loki said quickly. “It’s just… that’s what they said about me, on Asgard. That I was the Son of the Deep Winter, and that I would return to the Deep Winter in death.”

“Well, it is true,” Angrboða told him. “The war ended during the last Deep Winter.”

Loki frowned and looked down at the infant that was now his responsibility. He did not know why his adoptive father would refer to him with Jötun titles, unless deep down Odin never fully accepted Loki as his own. Loki ruthlessly pushed those thoughts aside. That was no longer relevant. He was, for all intents and purposes, banished from Asgard. Odin was not--had never been--his father.

He was Loki of Nowhere, Son of None. It was time for him to forge his own legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... This story started to grow exponentially larger than I intended it too, so this duology is becoming a trilogy. I'm ending A Bittersweet Dream here before it becomes too unwieldy and I lose patience with it. The third and (hopefully) final installment of The Endless will be coming soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the ride!


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